Posted in 2015, poetry, Writing

Who I Am

A hand in the shadows reaching out

But never returning to the shadows.

It feels the pain of itself and others,

But can only relieve another’s pain.

Never does the hand reach back,

Always facing forward with hope.

Looks to the future, but thinks of the past.

 

A wind changing with the rest of the world.

Never staying in one spot for long,

And never with the same state of mind.

Tries many new things but nothing sticks,

But a single passion hidden from view.

 

The emotions change with the seasons.

In summer there is rage as hot as fire,

In spring forgiveness, joy, and caring,

In fall the sadness of the end of a good run,

 

And in winter a cold depression.

More secrets than a vast, dark cave,

And more difficult to reach as well.

There is only one key that no one holds

But a stranger who calls out in the dark,

Their voice bouncing off of the walls

Like many words from the mouth.

 

The heart is warm if you can enter,

But outside it is as cold as steel,

Wrapped in a solid covering of iron.

It hears all words, but can’t express

The feelings it has for everything.

 

Immobilized by a feel so strong

That none can stand in its way,

But cares so strongly for everything

That it doesn’t matter how much pain is felt,

The end will always make up for everything.

 

Longs for someone to talk to,

But can never muster the courage to find them.

Creates characters who are friends,

Fake people in place of reality.

But nothing can fill the void

But the pain that is held up inside.

 

This is who I am.

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