My Identity

Hey everyone, I apologize sincerely for the long break. To be honest, I was trying to find something to write because there has been so much going on. So many things to write and at the same, nothing. Just stare into the blank space and let the mind flow like a stream. I sometimes love that feeling.

This piece was written and composed by Osinachi Ekeagwu:

Who am I?

Day by day, I ask myself: Who am I?

Every day I look in the mirror and I ask myself because I need to know

A man I think, but sometimes I find the boy in me still tossing and playing with his toys, still grumbling and complaining about the NOISE

What society say I am

Who am I?

Am I my past? The flash? The pain? The shame? Regrets? The mistakes that I made? 

Who am I?

Am I the words that you say? The taste on your lips? 

The reason I can’t sleep? So I stay awake and when I walk, I sweat

And when I sweat, I spit the venom, the hate the world has given me

Who am I?

Am I that piece of trash? The reason you always think I’m last and never get past my PAST? The reason you think I can’t when I can? And name me for every blame…Say I deserve the worst when consequences came and yet you have the heart to say I’m causing you pain

Who am I?

Am I my face? Am I the shape? The marks? The scars? The wrinkles and pimples? The dimples? The reason you think my life is so simple?

Who am I?

Am I my pride? The reason I slide all through LIFE despite the hurdles, the puddles…despite the absence of curdles to soothe my pain?

Who am I?

Am I the future? My dream? That picture? The reason I need no teacher to puncture my ambition?

Who am I?

Am I your words? The names that you call? The lies that you say? The blame I take? The reason every single mistake I make gets blown out of proportion? 

Who am I?

Am I the image in the mirror? That ravishing beauty or that cutie in the movie or just another WANNABE who never was and would never BE?

Who am I?

Am I my failures? My past? My tests? The route to my success? The reason you judge me so harshly, curse me, attack me, and hashtag # me?

Who am I?

I ask but sometimes I wonder why there are too many questions but just a few answers

Maybe I’m just me

The one and original me

The only one I say I am

Carefully crafted in the image of the Creator, made with a tinge of distinction 

The only one and only definition of me

That is the reason when I close my eyes, I see the stars, MY FUTURE and each time I wink, I smile, not to hide my distress but to express my rest

My rest in spite of the drowning noise, the things I see, the fakes, the toys

Now you know who I am

So let no one tell you any less.



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