04-27-2013, 04:51 PM
Hey everyone! I know it's been awhile since I posted anything on here. Been real busy with this crazy thing called life. Anyway, I've had a lot going on lately and a lot of time to just set and think. And in my thinking I've been writing stuff down. I wanted to share one of my writings with you all and see what you think. It's not really suppose to be poetry or anything like that. Just the product of a mind and soul set free to wander where it may. So here it is. Let me know what you think.
"Who am I?
I'm the guy who wakes up in the morning, looks in the mirror and asks, "What are you doing with your life? What difference are you making in this world?" Because honestly, I don't know the answers.
Who am I?
I'm the single mother, working two jobs so my kids can go to school, have clothes on their back, food on the table, a bed to sleep in, and a roof over their heads. Coming home late at night, kissing my already sleeping children and catching a few hours of sleep so that I can get up the next morning and do it all over again.
Who am I?
I'm the businessman, struggling to balance a hectic work schedule to provide for his family and still give them the time and attention they need. Rushing around from meeting after boring meeting, pushing papers around all day, putting out one fire after another, and working myself into an early grave. And all the while, the wife and children that I love are slowly slipping away, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Who am I?
I'm the lonely kid, walking down the school hall everyday, trying to ignore the names, like loser, spaz, dork, fatty, or fag! And while I recite that old saying about sticks and stones over an over, I'm still dying a little inside with every cruel name thrown at me.
Who am I?
I'm the elderly person, setting on the bench in the supermarket, wondering should I buy this loaf of bread or the pills I need to fight the aches and pains and disease that life has thrown at me. Or stuck in a home somewhere, abandoned by the family I once took care of.
Who am I?
I'm the woman in the abusive relationship, feeling lonely and scared because of the husband who rarely has time for me, and when he does it's only to beat me and yell at me in a drunken rage! And even though I know I should leave him, I still love him and I keep hoping that someday he'll change.
Who am I?
I'm the fat kid who sets all alone at lunch time, nursing the scars that no one sees with a second helping of food because food never calls me names or makes fun of me. And at the same time, I'm beating myself up for being so fat and eating so much. Trapped in a vicious cycle of self abuse.
Who am I?
I'm the teenage boy with the earbuds in his ears, blasting out the stares, the laughs, and the name calling simply because I choose to wear my clothes or my hair a little different than anyone else. And all I really want is for someone to notice me for who I am inside.
Who am I?
I'm the guy who acts like he's got it all together, nothing phases me. But inside I relive every time I've been knocked down and kicked in the dirt, picked myself up and dusted myself off, only to get knocked down again and again and again.
Who am I?
I'm the person who walks down the street but can't even hold hands with the person I love, or share them with my family, just because society doesn't approve and says it's a sin! Or I live in fear that someone's going to find out my secret and I'll loose my job, my home, or possibly my life.
Who am I?
I'm the homeless person, setting in the alleyway, wandering where my next meal will come from, or will I get a warm bed at the mission tonight. Remembering what it was like when I was living the American dream.
Who am I?
I'm the girl who's so insecure about myself that I hide behind make up and pretty clothes and a beautiful smile. Sure it seems like my life is awesome, but inside, I'm falling apart.
Who am I?
I'm the soldier who came home from a war that left me scarred in more ways than just physical. The scars that hide deep inside and give me night terrors to this day. And all the pills do is turn me into a zombie, so spaced out I can't even remember who I am or what I'm doing. My loved ones live in fear of me and I can't even go to the store without freaking out over the least little sound, and no one really seems to care.
Who am I?
I'm the kid who sets in the back of the class, praying desperately that the teacher doesn't call on me to answer a question because I can't seem to pay attention, the words "slip off the pages," or I just don't understand and I don't want anyone else to know.
Or the kid who can't control his emotions, can't say his words just right. I'm a little too hyper, can't set still. Maybe I'm the kid whose cloths aren't clean and I smell because my parents can't afford running water even though they're both working their asses off just so I can come to this hell hole they call a public school!
Who am I?
I'm the teenage girl, standing on the street corner, selling my body and soul to one dirty old man after another for one more hit, one more pill, one more shot in the veins that are on the verge of collapse, because for that one brief moment in time...there's no pain!
No one ever said life is fair. Each of us have our own struggles that we go through day after day after wretched day. And yet society expects us to live up to a certain set of standards that most of us could never achieve. And when we don't, we get shoved down, pushed aside, and forgotten.
Who am I?
I'm you...I'm me...I'm everyone!"
"Who am I?
I'm the guy who wakes up in the morning, looks in the mirror and asks, "What are you doing with your life? What difference are you making in this world?" Because honestly, I don't know the answers.
Who am I?
I'm the single mother, working two jobs so my kids can go to school, have clothes on their back, food on the table, a bed to sleep in, and a roof over their heads. Coming home late at night, kissing my already sleeping children and catching a few hours of sleep so that I can get up the next morning and do it all over again.
Who am I?
I'm the businessman, struggling to balance a hectic work schedule to provide for his family and still give them the time and attention they need. Rushing around from meeting after boring meeting, pushing papers around all day, putting out one fire after another, and working myself into an early grave. And all the while, the wife and children that I love are slowly slipping away, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Who am I?
I'm the lonely kid, walking down the school hall everyday, trying to ignore the names, like loser, spaz, dork, fatty, or fag! And while I recite that old saying about sticks and stones over an over, I'm still dying a little inside with every cruel name thrown at me.
Who am I?
I'm the elderly person, setting on the bench in the supermarket, wondering should I buy this loaf of bread or the pills I need to fight the aches and pains and disease that life has thrown at me. Or stuck in a home somewhere, abandoned by the family I once took care of.
Who am I?
I'm the woman in the abusive relationship, feeling lonely and scared because of the husband who rarely has time for me, and when he does it's only to beat me and yell at me in a drunken rage! And even though I know I should leave him, I still love him and I keep hoping that someday he'll change.
Who am I?
I'm the fat kid who sets all alone at lunch time, nursing the scars that no one sees with a second helping of food because food never calls me names or makes fun of me. And at the same time, I'm beating myself up for being so fat and eating so much. Trapped in a vicious cycle of self abuse.
Who am I?
I'm the teenage boy with the earbuds in his ears, blasting out the stares, the laughs, and the name calling simply because I choose to wear my clothes or my hair a little different than anyone else. And all I really want is for someone to notice me for who I am inside.
Who am I?
I'm the guy who acts like he's got it all together, nothing phases me. But inside I relive every time I've been knocked down and kicked in the dirt, picked myself up and dusted myself off, only to get knocked down again and again and again.
Who am I?
I'm the person who walks down the street but can't even hold hands with the person I love, or share them with my family, just because society doesn't approve and says it's a sin! Or I live in fear that someone's going to find out my secret and I'll loose my job, my home, or possibly my life.
Who am I?
I'm the homeless person, setting in the alleyway, wandering where my next meal will come from, or will I get a warm bed at the mission tonight. Remembering what it was like when I was living the American dream.
Who am I?
I'm the girl who's so insecure about myself that I hide behind make up and pretty clothes and a beautiful smile. Sure it seems like my life is awesome, but inside, I'm falling apart.
Who am I?
I'm the soldier who came home from a war that left me scarred in more ways than just physical. The scars that hide deep inside and give me night terrors to this day. And all the pills do is turn me into a zombie, so spaced out I can't even remember who I am or what I'm doing. My loved ones live in fear of me and I can't even go to the store without freaking out over the least little sound, and no one really seems to care.
Who am I?
I'm the kid who sets in the back of the class, praying desperately that the teacher doesn't call on me to answer a question because I can't seem to pay attention, the words "slip off the pages," or I just don't understand and I don't want anyone else to know.
Or the kid who can't control his emotions, can't say his words just right. I'm a little too hyper, can't set still. Maybe I'm the kid whose cloths aren't clean and I smell because my parents can't afford running water even though they're both working their asses off just so I can come to this hell hole they call a public school!
Who am I?
I'm the teenage girl, standing on the street corner, selling my body and soul to one dirty old man after another for one more hit, one more pill, one more shot in the veins that are on the verge of collapse, because for that one brief moment in time...there's no pain!
No one ever said life is fair. Each of us have our own struggles that we go through day after day after wretched day. And yet society expects us to live up to a certain set of standards that most of us could never achieve. And when we don't, we get shoved down, pushed aside, and forgotten.
Who am I?
I'm you...I'm me...I'm everyone!"
![[-]](https://gayspeak.com/images/duende_v3_local/collapse.png)
