I am imperfect and damaged
but trying.

I am a walking contradiction –
happy and sad,
lonely and loved.
I am scared and fearless.

I am a woman fighting,
always fighting.
I am coping as best I can.

I am smiles in one breath
and rage in another,
a mess of emotions
I don’t know how to control.

I am old in spirit
and so very young in understanding.

I am weary and tattered.
I’ve lived a hundred lives
and worn a hundred faces,
all on the way to finding me.
I’m not there yet.

I am the voices screaming in my head.
All of them.

I am not who you see.
Not always.

I am searching for acceptance
and love
and importance.

I am searching for that touch –
the one that says I’m okay.
Because I don’t know it on my own.

I am honest,
brutally so,
with others, yes –
but mostly with myself.

I know my shortcomings.
I wish I didn’t.
I want to find a better me,
a more complete me,
a functional me.

I am searching.
I am learning.
I am trying.

This poem was bred from a One Minute Writing post I wrote several weeks ago.

8 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Paula, The Geeky Shopaholic on June 6, 2013 at 1:19 pm

    I love this!


  2. Don’t give up Dayle and don’t stop writing. ❤ and you. 🙂


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