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Song of Myself

Song of Myself

A Poem by heelaary
"

This is an old school project for an english class. I describe mistakes I have made, how I feel about them, and how I want to see myself in the future.

"
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
What I say is my perspective and my perspective only,
Believe and you shall be enlightened.

I find beauty in all that surrounds me,
Easily entertained I find joy in everything,
And I easily lose the pain trying to pull me in.

I was born from the same mother and father as every individual,
I was given life by the one and only Jesus, who dominates all,
I feel obligated to show respect for him
But why do I not give the same respect to myself?

I am a mystery and find myself to be unpredictable,
I am helpful to others, but not so much for my own good,
I care too much and take on more than I should.

Torn between two loves,
I contemplate every decision and the outcome,
If I help someone, I only hurt another in return,
To make myself happy, who is going to be hurt?

Am I worth all the trouble,
Worth all the turmoil and stress for those who say they care?

How much is worth and how worthy am I,
Playing the role as the loving girlfriend,
Or playing the role as the secret one,
I cannot decide my path.

I resort to music in times of stress,
Listening and wishing for a better tomorrow,
A better today.

Time flies too fast, yet too slow,
Feeling the need to enjoy every positive moment,
And hurry the process of the hard times.

Hard times,
Something with a new definition to everyone,
Every experience is unique.
Born biologically of a young mother,
Only fifteen years of age,
A father of only seventeen,
Born into the poverty of America.

Raised by the parents of parents,
Raised by countless men in and out,
Inconsistency was my family, my best friend, and my only foe.

Moved miles and miles,
I sought further help to release my tension,
Knowing well off my path was already chosen.

My goal:
Break the chain, break the cycle,
Hope for a new tomorrow,
And never give anyone the last word.

My life is governed by love,
And by love only shall I be reborn into that, which breaks the cycle.

I find it necessary to look for the good in others,
Make the best out of every relationship,
And live by the golden rule.

I am now a girl of sixteen,
Eager to meet the expectations of the world around her,
While at the same time be different from everyone,
My decision-making skills are not so good.

It is not so much the need to feel that I fit in,
More of the need to rebel,
I must be different,
But I have a hard time doing it positively.

Those who matter know my regrets,
I have many, more than I would like to,
Life moves on, but my grudges remain,
Who am I to judge?

Years of hardships and trials plague my mind,
Although I am happy now, I cannot forget my past,
Miserable and alone in a cruel world,
Nobody dared to care.

I fell as though my thoughts can sometimes be above others,
That my judgment is better,
But looking at the things I do,
I am not so sure.

I am the girlfriend, loving and caring,
Deceiving,
The good friend, all knowing and secret keeping,
Secret telling,
The daughter, loved and adored,
lying.

I am ashamed of who I am sometimes,
Yet o so proud,
Who am I, I am still unsure,
Who I am hates who I have been,
Who I was makes who I am now.

© 2010 heelaary


Author's Note

heelaary
I have made mistakes in the past. Nobody is perfect and I would appreciate it if people didn't cast hard judgment on what I have confessed to hear. ps. this is my LAST relationship, not my current relationship. I wrote this when I was 16.

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Reviews

My goal:
Break the chain, break the cycle,
Hope for a new tomorrow,
And never give anyone the last word.

I so-loved this part of your write. Iiked this write alot. I thought it was very well writen.

Posted 14 Years Ago



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Added on November 11, 2010
Last Updated on November 11, 2010
Tags: autobiography, poem, meaningful, past, changes, regrets

Author

heelaary
heelaary

Chicago, IL



About
When I'm not bogged down with college, I leisurely read, on average, a book and a half a week. I am an activist for tons of causes and I don't seem to have a single problem talking about them. Life is.. more..

Writing
Memory Memory

A Poem by heelaary