We all have this squishy vulnerable inside... a side only few are able to reach.

A side only few are able to understand, a side only a couple individuals in this world are able to even show. It’s a glimpse into who somebody really is, it’s a glimpse into who somebody wants to be. It’s a site, it’s a sight. Who am I, who am I? This world is so full of doubt, so full of grace. A world of corrupted faith and barred hope… so much to see through, so much to seek. Who am I, who am I? This planet groomed with negative news and positive portions. An earth of frowns and smiles and smiles and frowns. I see myself as a writer, I see myself as a psychiatrist, I see myself as a singer, I see myself as a healthy young woman, I see myself as a dreamer. Who am I, who am I? Who do you think I am? Am I talented or am I just an imaginative mind inside a held back flesh and blood body? You’ll never know until you ask, you’ll never know until somebody tells you. I am who I am for a reason and I don’t find any shame in that. I find it difficult to understand why people make fun, I find it difficult to understand why people can’t just accept, I find it difficult to accept why people make fun, I find it difficult not to make fun. Who am I, who am I? I try my best to simply understand and for that I know I am graced with something more, something called “blind faith”. I stand between the lines, sometimes even on them for comfort, I sit between the cracks and draw over the secluded dotted photographs. I am an odd girl, I am an individual, divided from the rest. Who am I, who am I? Positive and negative, black and blue and white sparkling soul condensed. Don’t think you know who I am, because that blind ignorance will only grant you sand sifting through your cold dead fingers that have not been able to touch a pure woman in sight, shape, and scenic bliss.