Identity Crisis Diverted
Take no prisoners
There’s been times where I’m coasting through life,
Comfortable in the fit of my own skin,
I’d wake in the morning and smile at the new day,
And every minute of each hour would be felt as a win.
**
But although I was not in an identity crisis,
Or confused at the labels I wore as my crown,
There’d always be others who’d not quite agree,
And boy, would they try to turn my smile into a frown.
**
I’d hear rumours behind my back that clearly showed
That they were struggling with the very identity of me,
Snob, idiot, mole, whore, bimbo, dumb blonde, just to name a few,
But clearly they’ve no idea exactly who I could be.
**
For awhile they had me questioning my beliefs,
Could it be me that didn’t know my own worth?
Was I a lowdown deserving of such names?
I struggled with the opinions they seem to unearth.
**
Until I realised they’ve no idea who exactly I was for real,
What with their limited knowledge and lack of truth,
How could they possibly know my authenticity?
They just showed their true colours as an amateur sleuth.
**
From that day forward I wore their labels with pride,
Laughing at their antics as I continued my march,
My identity intact, I survived their assassination,
As my favourite mantle was hearing them call me a biarch.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (2)
This is so true. What people call us or think of us isn't a reflection of who we are. Only we know who we are and that's the only validation we need. Loved your poem!
I do believe they were "biarching" up the wrong tree, lol. That need that we so often seem to have to make others fit into categories & molds we can understand rather than simply marvel at the wonder & mystery that they be. Back in college, my favorite response to someone who cast an insult in my direction was simply to say, "Thank you." When that puzzled expression inevitably arose within their features & they asked the only question they could think up, "Why are you thanking me?" I would answer, "Because your comment served as an acknowledgement of my existence which is so much more than I usually get or probably deserve." Shut them right up, every time.