This is Me

A chance to recreate

An introduction where I will defy your preconceptions

Or rather, your misconceptions

No longer will I comply with your blurbs for my life

Blurbs which did not capture me

Not in interest

Or in personality

I’m the one with the restart

I’m the one with the pen

It’s not a new me,

This is me.

This is my tale.

And this is my poetic license.

Photo: Writing process shot. It was a napkin scribbling kind of day.

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An Inkling

How sweet a taste

A glimpse, a flash

The first lifting of a burden

A burden never mine to carry

 

For years you restrained me

Forced me into a shell too small

You bound me so tight

I felt all breath leave

 

You made me your puppet

Enslaved my mind, heart and spirit

Your ropes tort with pressure

Cutting deep into anxiety

 

But here I stand, now vindicated

No longer yours to control

No more bending of will

Today is my deliverance

 

I was never meant to be a contortionist

With the purpose of performance

I am who I am

And that is enough

 

The shell has cracked

The ropes, burnt

I see it coming now

Here comes the dawn

 

How sweet a taste

A glimpse, a flash

The first inkling of freedom

A freedom now mine to have