Who Am I?
Who Am I? That’s the question we usually ask ourselves. We’re like a library book that was never put back on the shelves. This is my question, if people asked you who you were... would you know more than your name? We know each and every emotion, but why do we think that we’re all the same? Didn’t God bring us to this world differently? So why can’t we treat ourselves equally? Do we really know who we are? Some people are judged by others, that their skin is full of scars. We are who we want to be, most people don’t realize that they were always free. So, I ask you again... If a person asked you who you were, would you know more than your name? Truth is, we can’t find ourselves, it’s because... we are the ones that write our life story book upon those shelves.
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People have a terrible time discovering themselves, and I’d like to make it clear that in my poem it will inspire people to realize who they are as a person.