Who I am to me.

People tell me all the time they like me. I no longer believe them. I’ve heard so many stories that I’m supposed to buy. It doesn’t taste like the candy sold in the convenience store. It’s more like sweet and sour. Often, times it’s not even that chocolate filled crap. I’ve got my words, stories, poetry, and songs. Everything inside this heart to move on. I fill my soul with dreams, keeping them close. As much, as you think, it’s shit. It gives me hope. Deep diving, trying not to dwell in the madness, I once believed, even though it hurts. I tell myself, all I need is me.
Angela K. Crandall

©3/6/16

Free verse Poetry slam.

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