Finding Your Own Identity
The sounds of a distant violin filling the empty sky.
The rhythm speaking about a lost love,
someone lost in an ocean of black doves,
all ignoring his agonising outcry.
All dressed in black they come.
Their horses sighted first though the thickening mist.
There is no use in trying to resist,
but he refuses to take societies venom.
He stands up proud.
Taking a step to the covered path.
He knows that it might be a bloodbath,
but he won’t succumb to the clouded crowds.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Finding Your Own Identity by Amelia Murray )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
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