I have long since forgotten
how to define myself in ink and pencil shavings.
I am a human being
born of blood and sweat and broken nails -
Call me delicate at your own risk
I am steel-shorn heart pieces and sweaty palms
I am something individual and unique
I am arms outstretched,
arms towards the skys,
hands on the ground -
Always pushing up and outwards
Sometimes you have to dig deeper to hit higher
I once tasted the sky
and it reminded me of the freedom I am,
the freedom I hold, in my chest
There is no test of character in life -
I will always have to answer the sum of my soul in two-hundred-and-fifty words total
Who are you?
What are you?
What will you become?
I am who I am.
I am what I am.
I will become someone different from who
I am today but that day hasn't come just
yet and yet I am perfectly content with being
Who I am.