ManicWorld Magazine

There was a time I was worried—
Worried I was slowly fading away,
That the essence of who I was
Had been stolen from me
By the very hands that had sworn
To protect me until the end.

You might never have imagined,
But voices in my closest circles
Planted insidious seeds of doubt
In my clouded crowded mind,
Telling me I would never reach
The dreams I dared to dream.

They worked hard to persuade me
That I should hide my differences,
That I was never enough, yet somehow too much—
That I should remain in the shadows,
Following the path they’d set for me,
But I had no intention of becoming them.

I refuse to shield myself behind a veil
Of lies and pretenses, as they do.
I may be messy and imperfect,
But I don’t carry their inner demons—
That mysterious force from the darkness,
Gaining strength from the pain of others.

If I am generous, kind, and loving,
Honest, compassionate, and caring,
If I meet the world with a whole, open heart—
Why was I the one deemed wrong,
And why did you mimic me for so long?