I am...

The breath of air in the back of the class you coudnt hear

drowned and caressed in my own fear

a heart which flakes away at pain that jabs it

over, over, and over again

where there is no place for it to fit

I am...

The constant cries I bled

wondering why frequently in my head

what is my purpose?

trying to answer this was my own circus

I am...

17 years old now

my life what a story to plow

went through identity crisis

from weight, clothes, and makeup

to ending up at my own identity oasis

I am...

a golden rose trimed with all my tears

a crown made which took me 17 years

a smile that can blind many

a helper to even give my last penny

I am...

the way I walk

the way I talk

the one who can make an entire room laugh

a blossoming flower finding my own path.