Wednesday, April 10, 2013

I is for Identity

Source:  lindseywildcat


She wasn't the needle in her arm.
But that's what they made her out to be.
She wasn't the unwilling prostitute.
But that's what they saw.
She wasn't the virus in her blood.
She wasn't the scars on her arms or thighs. 
She wasn't the homeless shelter runaway.

But she didn't know who she was.
So she couldn't tell them.

9 comments:

  1. A very strong poem, gave me shivers.

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  2. Where's the "pulled at my heart" button?

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  3. This makes my heart sad. I hope she finds herself :(

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  4. What a sad poem. There are so many youngsters with similar problems. I only wish I knew how to make them whole. Thank you for visiting my blog today. Blessings to you and the girl in your poem.

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  5. That is so sad. I've seen the picture around pintrest and it always strikes me. And it totally fits the poem.

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  6. This is so powerful! I had to read it several times. And you are so right, none of those things define who she is.

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  7. The poem fits the image really well and it's so evocative. It will definitely make me think twice next time I see a homeless person.

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  8. Powerful writing. Thank you for visiting my blog and good luck with the rest of the A-Z Challenge.
    Ebby

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Thank you for your comment! I will love it and hug it and pet it and call it George. Or, you know, just read and reply to it. But still- you rock!