I am what I am. I am concealed by a curtain of secrets, hidden to all but one. I am untrusting, cautious, and scared. I am what I am. I am boxed-in, suffocated. Sadness. Anger. Alone. I am...I am...what I am. I am divided among many paths, watching, waiting. Waiting for a time of escape. I am what I am and I will be me.

I am gasping for the sweet release of happiness, yet finding only judgement. I am eternally vulnerable to others’ thoughts, because of a fragile self image.

I am hidden beauty within a thick cocoon. I am what I am. I am waiting to burst forth, in all gorgeous glory. I am a ticking bomb or breathtaking wonder, not yet knowing what I will become. I am a kind soul, hardened by experience. I am what I am. I am greatness without purpose, except for a career.