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Where Do I come from?
Where do I come from?
What a simple question, but so hard to answer
Do I come from the tramas or the hurt?
Or from the names the others had drawn up for me?
Or possibly from the nights where I felt like my word was in flames?
Could I possibly define myself from that?
Would I dare?
Maybe I could define myself from the great things
Like smarts or creativity
No, that felt wrong too
Because if I chose to define myself by the great things
Did all the hurt mean nothing?
Why was this a question so hard to answer?
Maybe I’ll define myself by the growth
From the flowers that had learned to bloom in such hard conditions
From the heart that continued to beat while no blood was to flow
From the journey I had take by myself
The journey that had only led me to the new me
A better me,
The one I chose to define myself by.