Unwritten

You ask me Who I Am
But it should be I who asks
Who You Are.
You who hides your face
behind a mask
carved and painted
to create you name

I came to you
Like a blank canvas.
Pure and untainted
The potential to be
a Masterpiece.

You tore me a part.
You ripped out the seams that held me together,
split the frame that made me whole
and left me to burn.

Unwanted.
Broken.
Alone.

You ask me What I Am
But it should be me who asks
What Are You?
You who gave me to the dark,
crawling, unforgiving shadows.
I am a monster,
And so are You.

Frustrated.
Scared.
Scarred.

I tried to stand--
You kicked me down.
I tried to swim--
You made me drown.

You who laughed
You who sneered
You who lived on others fear--
You were the light,
I became your shadow.

Crippled.
Mangled.
Destroyed.

Reborn.

Pulled out from the ashes
by my own broken hands,
You finally crossed the line,
Now I'll take my stand.
You ask me What I have Become,
I'll tell you what you are:
You're the beast but I'm not your beauty.
I'm just me, end of story.

This poem is about: 
Me

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