I've been dying to tell the world who I really am.

I am the name engraved on the hammer
that nailed my love onto the cross.
yes, my sins were the thorns on my king's crown
and it was my hands that held his blood.
(the faint shadow lingers still…)

I am the unwanted product of a broken marriage
by the one that had conceived of me…
yet loved by he whose sperm gave life to me,
and by the one whose plan it was for me to be born.
(the one whose been there for me through it all…)

I am the sin of a young, naïve child
whose love was given to another young (but older) boy
who in resentment from his exit,
tossed blame in his direction; condemned him
(and he may have still loved me if I kept his secret safe…)

I am the perfectionist who isn't perfect
whose sin has been covered, hidden by lies and blame
but who is happy to say that she isn't perfect
and never will be.
(it just gives her a passion for living…)

I am the girl who loves
but doesn't know quite what love is
or how to get it, or feel it or quite how to
give it correctly and accept it when it is given in return
(but I guess there are some things that aren't understood…)

I am the girl whose statements contradict themselves
who knows what she is talking about
but doesn't know how to convey it until years later
when the simple connection between her two contradictory points has been found
(I've been told I overanalyze everything…)

I am the jealous immature girl
whose jealousy is fading and maturity is growing
as she is learning that it's okay to be second
and that success isn't really anything to be gained
(more is really less…)

I am the bipolar and ever-changing wind
whose direction is determined by its creator
even if not everything speed and direction is accepted or loved
who maybe even went a little astray sometimes
(but is still living and cherished anyways…)

I am the girl dying to be profound,
and find a better excuse as to why I do what I do.
as to why I am what I am,
and why I've become who I've become.
(but I defy explanation…)

I am the apologetic girl
who has learned to describe herself
without a(nother) sob story or excuse;
who no longer feels regret
(I am the girl happy to say, "this is me.")