I promised myself that I would be gentle,
That I would no longer punish myself for taking my time.
I told myself there is no urgency to find oneself,
That the genuine you comes with patience.
I paint myself in different shades, like a color by number,
Trying on different versions of who I desire and aim to be.
But each time I feel close, I end up farther away.
Pushed and pulled by my inner turmoil.
Life steals my identity whenever it tries to clear the surface,
Relentless waves dragging me under until I can no longer breathe.
Somehow I fight my way through choppy waters,
Drawing deep breaths into burning lungs
Only to swallow the next round of salty tears.
And I feel lost again.
Wading in deep seas of my own creation,
Begging for something to help me see.
