The urge to write

Dear Reader,

When the hearts wants to speak, who are we to stop it. Once the urge to write fiercely takes over me, that is all my mind thinks about. I catch myself pretending or changing my behaviours to appear a certain way to people, when a strong identity of mine is on its way to construction. The blueprint of my identity is still work in progress and I think it will be like that for the rest of my life.

I shape shift like a chameleon 

constantly changing identities 

stuck inside my head 

constantly playing a character 

while a part of me fades each day 

not that I knew who I was 

my likes or dislikes 

I played pretend so not a hair on me was 

considered a mistake 

wasted the light in my eyes 

the clock ticking in the distant corner

terrified of imperfection 

withering in agony of the absence of my potential 

if everyone disappeared 

would I impress the trees, flowers and birds

would I ask them to love 

would I feel important if their gaze turned towards me 

if they showered me with their presence of their own accord

would I care about their opinions 

Would I throw love as was done with strangers 

along the path of my journey