I Am Who I Am

Often times,

I struggle to find myself.

On the brink of adulthood,

I have a few foolish ambitions.

I am a writer of sorts,

Some concur,

But I only use my pen to release the tension in my veins.

A creative rite to save my soul.

My identity is something I can't shake, 

And that frustrates me deeply. 

Often times, I am defined by the approval of others, 

Oh, where did I go wrong? 

Perhaps I can say that all this uncertainty defines me, 

Perhaps I can say I lost who I was through all the tears that I've cried in vain

The water drowned my soul, I suppose,

 But I'm still alive. 

In all honesty, I don't know who I am, 

And God knows all too well.  

Maybe that counts for something, but as of now I can never tell. 

You ask me how I define myself, 

 Well, I am who I am. 

A living, breathing excuse for departure, 

But here I am tonight.

This poem is about: 




for King and Country

Wow, this really spoke to me. Must have something to do with where I am in life right now. Keep searching and writing; you have a gift. <3


Thank you, friend. I hope you find what you're looking for yourself. <3

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