Self

Long has been the making of my heart
And longer still the birthing of my soul.
When, as a child, I thought I knew my part
I knew not yet my being was not whole.
As malleable as thread upon the wind,
I strove to please the ones I thought knew best
While smothering that little dark-eyed fiend
The only part of me who could protest
The systematic sealing off of all
The better parts of me I could bring forth.
And so it came to be as I grew tall
And curious that I found my narrow course,
Uncovering the thing I long desired
To be yet lacked the confidence to find
Within myself, albeit she required
The little dark-eyed fiend that I did bind,
Who welcomes me with open arms and eyes
The truest part of me that there could be
The innocence, now tempered well with wise
Words, the girl who's not ashamed of me.