Im writing a poem, let me know what you think.
Here I stand, in the white and gloomy room of my disappeared mind. I feel like a question mark floating somewhere in space waiting to be discovered. I am now suffering from the consequences of my actions, sitting in a courtroom and waiting for the verdict. Im on trial for fraud. For pretending to be someone else. For living in a body not my own and stealing words from another. I hear sounds echoing through the room. They say I should have been myself but how can I be what I dont know. My understanding of it is to be unapologetically me. The me I was when I was a kid. Running through endless fields of violets with my hair dancing in the wind. not caring about what other people think. Just being me. Will I ever understand the term ‘be yourself’ the answer is to be determined. But now i’ll try to find the best version of me and try to keep it as consistent as possible.