Who Am I?

The girl with fiery temper and wild hair?

The extrovert everywhere? The bookworm?

Am I the one who finds the best company

only in a book among imaginary friends

and surreal scenarios?

Who am I?

The dandelion among the roses?

The wolf among sheep?

Or maybe the sinner and the liar?

I'm the one that never seems to really fit in.

No matter how much I try.

I'm the outcast in every land.

Who am I?

I've found that I am wearing armor around myself,

made of harsh words, sarcastic comments 

and nasty remarks that are only 

able to protect my wounded pride.

And deep in my soul I know the truth,

I'm broken beyond repair.

Who am I?

And maybe that's what causes most of my despair.

To know the truth is a terrible thing

because you can't fight against it.

From time to time I wonder, grasping the last bits of myself,

what will happen if I disappear the next day?

Who am I?

Would I be missed by my so called friends?

Would my disappearance haunt them until their death?

Would they even notice I'm not there?

Who Am I?

The image of a the strong confident woman I've built for myself,

is only the façade for the little broken girl that lays 

beside scared of everything around.

Hoping that one day someone will notice the façade

and sees her as she truly is,

a little broken girl scared of herself