I have no identity of my own
To be my authentic self, my cover would be blown
It’s a facade of whom everybody’s told me to be
What’s underneath; what’s to see, what’s really me?
My feelings, if I can get in touch
I’m fearful they will come pouring out, too much
They would be tumbled; jumbled, and come out all mumbled.
The feelings that were numb for so long
Come poking out like the sharp points of the prong.
If only there was a way to manage the floodgate
Not to ignore or erase, but to control and modulate.
The skills here today I learned to help me cope
I will take with me, practice, and hold on to hope.
Donna
06-18-2010
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