Identity

I am a lonely rose; an abandoned flower,

A gust of wind, oblivious to its power. 

I am the worn out house on the end of the street,

Buckling and swaying with moans of defeat. 

 

I am the river as it churns, strong and swift

Unaware that its force itself is a gift. 

I am a wounded soldier, back from the war

Wiser and stronger than ever before. 

 

Identity is a concept that few can grasp;

Feelings and experiences, learned and amassed. 

But still there's a point where you finally discover;

And it fills you with light and a glimmer of wonder.

 

For you're stronger than steel,

More valuable than gold. 

Your wounds will still heal;

The pain will grow old. 

 

I wish I had known

When I was very small,

That I am not alone,

And time will heal all. 

 

I am a lion, fearless and proud. 

Not afraid of her roar; of living out loud. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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