Who I Really Am

And every day I paint,

Diligently, carefully, I paint myself new.

And what is seen by others is this mess of colour,

And uneven lines.

But what I am becoming through the confusion,

And mess,

Is me.

And everyday I paint,

Diligently,

Carefully,

I paint myself new.

I paint myself a pretty mask.

This mask is not what hides me,

This mask is the revealing of who I really am.

How?

With my finger-tips I take off all that’s same,

And reveal all that’s rare.

I reveal who I really Am.

Because as the

‘Master of my fate’,

I get to choose which colours I paint with,

I get to choose who I really am,

I get to choose the person I become,

Because I am the artist who paints myself,

I am the maker of my own self.

And everyday I paint,

Diligently,

Carefully,

I reveal for all to see

Who I really Am,

This pretty mask is me.

And as I paint, I am freed.

I paint with my finger tips and I paint with my voice, and I paint with my movement.

Because through this art, I am me.

As I paint this pretty mask, I grow more vulnerable – more brave.

I paint this mask for me.

And everyday I paint

because there is a part of me that so desperately seeks this sameness with those around.

There is safety in the sameness. There is.

Yet, I paint.

I paint to reveal who I really am, and I wear this paint to revolt against the sameness that suffocates so sneakily.

And every day I paint,

Diligently, carefully, I paint myself new.