Who Am I?

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Who am I?

I’m not sure anymore.

It seems like only yesterday

the answer would be a single digit number.

The age of a little girl.

Now who I am can’t even be summed up on paper.

Not in words.

Not in anything but emotions

that only I can feel.

Some days,

that gets the best of me.

Those days are hard to get through.

Those days are when a dirty look can make me cry,

when my thin shell is cracked to the point

that my eyes can’t seem to stop watering.

That’s when I ask myself hard questions,

like “who am I?”

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