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LOST IDENTITY
It’s gone.
I’ve lost it again.
It’s to a point where in certain circles I don’t have a name.
I am just Cat’s wife.
I want to look at them and say
You know I have a name.
The name I go by is Lynn.
I am not just someone’s wife.
One of my friends has even told me that I speak gay speak.
Whatever that means.
I fight for every moment,
Some time for me to show I exist as an individual.
Yet, I am lost.
My words the only proof
That I am here.
Go figure, a writer and her lost identity
Leaves a legacy of words.
I’ve always said that words have power, but my words show my weakness
While others say it shows my power.
They say it take courage to put pen to paper and say what is going on.
I spent the night trying to find me, myself, the woman who was once warrior, that now cowards at a raised voice.
I’ve spent two days in tears on the inside wanting it to get better,
and things have gotten worse.
Trust is a matter within itself.
Feeling beat up in-group last week.
Never wanting to go back.
Never going back.
It was like having a place I felt safe and being violated.
Hence, the angry tears that roll down a solemn face.
The cry ball resurfaces,
Me clutching my teddy bear with
Thoughts of death and dying going through my head.
I’m not crazy I just can’t handle it anymore.
Feeling like a complete failure, can’t even kill myself right.
I woke up this morning and I wasn’t supposed to be here
In this world, this lifetime, anymore.
Yet something prevailed and I woke up.
My lost identity.
Woman lost trying to find herself.
Writing words, crying tears, craving death, hating life.
