Who I am
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Dear faceless words, You've given me so much. Your voice changes with what you say, An echo of your many names. As a wandering traveler, you taught me to see beauty.
I'm not sure how it happened, but I woke up one day to realize I haven't aged in a very long time These bodies don't define who we are
you think i'm buried in a book? hah, i'm buried in my mind. things of myth and mystery black and white combine a both good and evil history if you look that's what you'l find
I’m finding it rather hard to live with Who I Am. Especially when Who I Am can be so despicable. Sometimes, she mentions things I don’t plan on thinking about.
Her smile was fake, her soul was crushed, she saw all the bad, no good in her sight. The colors were gone,
I am from an old house, built by the bare hands of my grandparents. I am from craft stores, running in and out right before it closes. I am from bracelets, a colorful way to express myself.
I am from the neatness Of clothes tucked away In folded squares In chests of drawers In the cream white room Where the television
"Don't be your father." Don't give up when they need you. Don't go back on your word. Make it through. Find a way. "Don't be your mother." Don't leave them all alone.
I am antique malls and dusty dishes I am front porch pickers and moonshine sippers I am light up sketchers and spongy pineapple dwellers I am young mistakes and a family disgrace I am dogwood trees and honey bees
Here's to me Some people slam doors, I slam poems. You judge the box, I open it. Reality presses against the walls, I want the alternative. To the times I've messed up.
If you're going to love me babe I just wanted to give you a heads upA heads up as to why I am the way I amAnd what you're leaping into when you decided to say those three words
Identity Who I am This is who I am And you shall not take it from me My sense of who is Me And what I is and is not Look This is who I am This is the core of me
This is me This is who I am In and Out This is where I stand A dark shadow that disappears Looking for Peter Pan Dreaming long and hard "I think I can" Become the President? Perhaps not
I am from curiosity, letting go of hands Tumbling down stairs No one around me, to say “Hey watch out” A lone giggle I am from quite lonely days
Metaphorically I am a simile, like an allusion, I AM an oxymoron, a flagrant euphemism, a hyperbolic faux-pas, so masculine, I could metonymously eat a feminist,
I always see the good side of people,Always giving them the ‘benefit of the doubt’,While I expect others to do same for me,Still doing so even when they don’t.
When I was fourteen years old one of my best friends died. I wandered the halls of my dreary middle school where my anxiety levels rose and my confidence fell. My heart raced as I ran from my classroom
Devoted With a strong motive Nothing in this world comes easy And from all of the winding curves I become weary But to the goal I will press on
If you know me You know my name My name is me We are the same. It wasn't just picked By coincidence My name is me And I am it. I didn't become it's equivalent
I walk a path both dark and dreary As I ponder long, worn and weary: Who am I? Love I’ve found and lost again
Not one of the Me's -But all of the Me's- All of the different variations of I -All of the I's in me- Only one you will see. Only one that will stop,
Trailer park memories, family living together tighly, apple and cherry trees; they are all a part of me. Alley ways and side streets, scraped elbows and bruised knees,
I am a percentage, I am the one out of four that suffers inside my mind I am the seventeen of one hundred born with darker skin
I am a martinez I am relentless taking on a challenge even if i know i won't be able to comply I am motivational pushing others to not give up when I know thats all I want to do
I am quiet I am shy Too shy for a 16 year old I keep my mouth shut And my mind loud If you speak to me I will speak to you I am not rude I am nice Too nice sometimes
I am Spring, 2013 You were in a coma Accidental drug overdose I felt like I died I am Fall, 2013 Things got better For everyone but me You see, I got worse
I am thoughts yet I am not,For how could thoughts be made to walk?How could thoughts be ones to speakWhen no lips they have to seal?People talk and people sayThoughts are what we are these days.
Many people know the season But many people know not me I am more than your Instagram pictures Of your dog playing in the leaves I am the purest of aesthetics Not for my face or my hair
Yo soy Irma
I had to pay, actually, to find myself. Didn't you? I had choices, I had to chose. I had fallen to the social norms. I lost my sanity,
First thing's first I smirk instead of smile This is who I am with #NoFilter The latter done only once in a while When I laugh by cause of my mister Fond of all that is medicinal
I need a scholarship. "Tell me about yourself," they say. Heck, I don't even know that. "Be authentic," they say. Heck, I don't even know that. "Be under 25," they say.
I sit in school. The chair digs into my back, Eyes bore into the back of my head, My mind is buzzing Fingers thrumming against the steel legs.
Me? Oh, I, I am the girl, the girl with the curly brown hair, with straightened bangs, bangs that have grown too long— long enough to hide my eyes from the world
Who I am con't be seen in a picture, So who am I? Within four walls, I am comfortable. I'm lost in deep sea of words on a page, and i don't feel like swimming.
A young man that things of ways to change the world even if it seems it is getting worse. A young man that has an uncontrollable urge to search for ways to improve my life and others.
Flawless me comes in so many degrees. Hotter and hotter that never gets colder built up but never with any drama. Flawless me has never been mean to anyone but always ready to help those in need.
Some can't see it. they say its unlikely, but my plan is working out nicely. some say I'm just feisty, a little bit spicy and they would be precisely right. I'm filled with love,
I stand face to face, With the person I was supposed to be. In the mirror he stands there, a smile on his face, While a frown graces my own.
"You're weird!"- Who's weird? What's weird? The word weird is weird. How can we determine what a person is? Different seems bad now at days. Why? "You're weird!"- Who's weird?
When I look in one's eye, they already know, who i am today is what I’ve come to show. Getting on that stage, I have no regrets, it’s just a song that puts us all at best. A song coming to life has more depth than reality.
Who i am, Is not who you are. Who you are, Is not who i am. I do not know who you are, But i know who i am, And that is all i plan on knowing.
I am the quiet fall day the leaves on the trees falling silently in the breeze. I am the shy smile spreading over my face when someone speaks to me. I am the laughter,
I am from the sun and sea, fire and earth I am from forbidden love, heat and passion I am from broken laws and wounded souls Constant trips and endless highs I am from falling snow and raging winds
Don't you have secrets you can't tell anybody? Secrets you've kept like sacred promises? All your life feels like an unopened box If you let the light in, your demons escape.
Avert thine eyes From these cold stars sculpted upon my face From my arms painted fools gold Avert thine eyes From these hands of obsisidon From this mouth full of bitter fruit
(Verse One) You set my heart burning up in flames . You just drive me insane. You'll never understand how this was never love, that I was feeling.
I am from scorching heat and dried roots, From tumble weeds and one great salty lake, Surrounded by tall mountain walls, I am from a small, sparkling city in a bowl shaped valey,
“Moi et mon Rideau ” (Me and my Curtain) So you ask why, a poet like myself, is hiding behind a curtain, It’s simple; it’s a security blanket.
I am someone who can find beauty in the strangest places. The bush outside that has gone away for the winter. All alone, with no leaves to keep it company during the long cold season.
Just a shy girl waiting Waiting to be noticed.
at a young age,
I live in the same place I was born. A small circle of protection, preserved on every side by a cliff or mountain. It’s a mystifying place,
Turn around and face me, Face me for who I am. Because just as you I have woes, And just as you I struggle. Turn to me and wonder, Wonder as much as I do. Because just as you I think of others,
I am a poet, and I guess I know it. But who wrote these lines. Oh how I wish they could be mine, tell my story, And if you ask the others of how they would define, me
My dispair flows from Wherever I am To where you are, In the sweet sunshine of Californ-i-a, Where only God can see you And your newfound glory Breaking our hearts, This THING,
Why do I write? I write because I must. There is no choice. There only is and isn't. The words are a part of me; I cannot deny myself. When I was first shown the beauty that words could create
Uneventfully I awoke. Unsurprisingly the sun beating hot on the single paned windows – Caused dew drops of moisture to form Dragging myself out of bed, Discarding one used shirt for another,
You indure the valleys lows the world could be yours climb the frozen mountains the world could be yours travel through the grassy plains the world could be yours
(poems go here) Family is family You cant pick or choose them Some may be loud obnoxious && rude Some maybe sweet && kind or fine tuned There not going anywhere So get used to the crew
Father and Me From the Forest of Bamboo, the paths Lead to a small hut built for tea. We are offered an unknown delight
As a watermelon On the Earth Rooted, not strong Kissing burning dirt While to me the tall tree beared no shade Stood by me with no shame Not one leaf above me And that hunger for the weak
In the dead of night, crickets play their song. I lay on the cold dirt ground, while in your arms. Look up, you say. A diamond filled like sky. I see a smile.