Surviving the Storm

Look for me under dreamer.

 

There it will be defined: one that is not afraid to be fearless, foolish, and forgetful. One who does not understand how to quit, and is fluent in failure, able to translate it into something beautiful.

 

I am fractured, broken, and beaten down. Oceans have swallowed me like rain that strikes its surface amid the storm. Above, I build myself with what I can. Before I am ready, I enter the sky, descending.

Buffeted by winds of doubt and slader  - You are nothing - you are no one - you're weird and you don't fit in. I-  I threaten to loose myself in the chaos.

But by some strange grace, I have kept myself together. I blast into the water's surface, where everyone is, afraid that if I let my guard down to much and for too long, I would lose myself in the world, lose my very identity.

 

I am only along for the ride.

My cyrstal clear vision of control has been shattered, long ago. As the shards of my illusion's glass rain upon me, I lift up my hands -  not to shield myself, but to accept a truth that I cannot deny or comprehend.

 

Pursued in hate and cherished in intimacy.

Misunderstood and abused.

Unappreciated.

 

I have been along that road, and have walked after other's footprints in my own shoes.

I have been, and was.

 

But the past is a shadow, connected and undeniable, but immaterial, able to be as big or small as we are willing to make it.

These shadows will always be behind us, but they will only be behind if we turn and face the sun.

 

I have been

was and

did.

 

But now,

I am,

will be, and

shall become.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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