What Is It?

I hide my head

Inside my shoulders

And tightly hold myself

To stay upright


‘What is it

About me,’

I begin

To wonder,


‘That makes me feel

So small,

So full

Of self-disgust?’



Of the secrets

I won’t tell

Thus dwarfs me?’



Of the lies

I told

Keeps me thus chained?’


I lower to the ground

My eyes,

Dark, wounded,



And almost run,


I know I couldn’t

Run away


From shame:

It floods me




I drown in it


It’s all there is

To feel


‘What is it,’

I wonder,

‘I don’t know

About me,


That makes me

So deeply,

So relentlessly



Is it the fact

That I am


Devoid of beauty


Of any kind,


And unknown

To man?


Is it that, like the air

Which feeds my blood,

I am



With every kind of dirt,


And unknown

To man?


Or is it, maybe,

That I am a woman,

Whose hands and heart

Are cold, incapable of love?


Or is it simply

That I am too human?

With hundred strengths,

And weaknesses, and doubts?

6 thoughts on “What Is It?

  1. Thank you for your comment! I agree with you: her question, ‘what is it about me?’, does not arise out of nowhere or even out of herself – it is a question her environment inspires; naturally, it also influences her answer to it.

  2. This is a powerful portrayal, identifiable. It also has a smooth flow that pulls you along. The conclusion is surprising and encouraging.

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