Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
Oh, that innocent little question. “Who are you?” So subtle, yet could make a person go mad. “Who am I?” I begin to think. As thoughts start to cause tension in my head, what shall I let define me? Oh, that’s it. How about my chronic illness, no? Yes, most definitely not. I know I’m not supposed to consider myself the person I was once, long ago, but what if the old me was someone I loved? No, that’s no longer the person I am. It’s simply a ghost that’ll forever haunt me. Often, I can hear her, asking me how did I fall so low? The truth is, I don’t know. All the symptoms took over, and down she went, like a boat she sank because she couldn’t swim. My body grew weak, yet her ambition grew stronger. This ghost that I claim, she thinks that she’s bigger. She won’t let me go, despite how hard I plead, she says “hang on, can’t you see? There's a light that is shining straight through the trees.” Her dreams still thrive, but me, I hurt, for I sit waiting to hear my name and beside me, the trees sit painted in a frame. “Miss Brooklyn?” The nurse calls, I stand “That’s me.” My ghost follows close, an optimist in me. Consequently, I push her away because at the end of the day, she’s still a little girl that shouldn’t have to deal with the heartbreak. I have to protect her, she keeps me strong, she keeps me going, she gives me hope, so thus, I keep fighting. For now, I know I am lost, patiently waiting to be found. Who I am will have to stay a mystery for now, that is until we can get past the trees. It’s who I will be that will be the story worth writing about.