Seeking myself in a void,
In a darkness made of fear,
Hustling to light my dreams,
Leaving nothing to spare.
Still scratching out nothing,
And feeling myself bound.
Seeing fingers scrolling up,
And fighting with some sound.
I was afraid of questions,
That might land right on me,
Not asking what's my truth,
Not catching sight on me.
But enough of this fear now,
I'll touch that famous sky.
I'll answer all those fingers,
I'll make the sound go cry.
I'll shush those questions down,
With answers made of will.
No more afraid of them,
No more just standing still.
Okay I might be wrong,
But now I'll be right for me.
If no-one stands with me,
It's me who'll fight for me.
YOU ARE READING
It's Me 2.0
PoetryThis poem is more about fighting with my own self. Being angry with myself and eventually fighting for myself against all the questions and fingers raised by society and the world.
