The dreaded inevitable process has come yet again
but this time it is not here to come up with a plan
to block out my depression,
or to create another mask to impress the world
and ignore my past and my present state,
no, this time it is here to reveal, mold, and transform.
I have to face me:
head to toe, front to back, in and out
and everything in between.
I don’t even know where to start.
I don’t know how to think for my self
because all my thoughts has been for the satisfaction of others.
Who am I?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem