The Me of My Memories

There are parts of me that I expressed

That are now only memories.

The past me that I do detest

Is it something only mother sees?

Or my counselor who told me that

A shell would make me invincible

A mental shield so when they spat

I'd only find it trivial.

Or maybe God would help me find

The strength to forgive my enemies

But the church's kindness did unwind

So I did leave the vicinity.

And so, at school, when I would go

Unable to please anyone

I would find friends who'd let me know

I didn't need to please anyone.

It was then that the me I knew

Cast off like scattered debris

I'd been searching for a single clue

On how to just be me

There is no gender or a race

There's no sexuality

There's only my own smiling face

There is only me.

The me of my memories

I'll always have beside

But who I am from this point forward

It's mine to decide.