Warrior

What is the thing that defines me?

What is left in the minds of those whose lives I have passed through?

Is it my redlipsbigcheeksblondehair or any physical characteristics?

Inside, I am a warrior. Outside, I am whatever they want to see. An object for their consumption. Sinking their teeth into a version of me that will never exist. Checking the pulse of the personality they have constructed. Or maybe they never thought of me at all. 

I am more than a passing face. I am a peacemaker and a fighter. I am a hurricane and its eye. I am chaos and I am calm. 

The war inside me will never subside just as I will never stop pushing toward my goals. 

I am a warrior.

The mark I have made on the world will one day outweigh the scars it has left on me.

And when I wonder in the darkest hours of the night, "who am I?" I will be greeted with memories of the obstacles I have overcome, the lives I have impacted, and the choices I have made. 

I will never be simple. Always more than a face in the crowd. I am a constant warrior inside the intracacies of my thoughts. But you'd never know by looking.

This poem is about: 
Me

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