Painfully Shed of Her Skin
With little left in the end
I’ve answered to many labels within my lifetime,
But sadly nothing lasts forever,
Devastating crippling loss as they slowly fall by the wayside,
As I traverse this life in my stalwart endeavour.
**
It all started with the label ‘baby girl’,
But then I grew up to become a teen,
Which soon revolved into adult,
The memorial day I turned eighteen.
**
I was once labelled someone’s daughter,
And it could be argued that I’m still to this day,
But I disagree as daughters are precious beings,
Not treated cruelly in any way.
**
I attempted to live up to the title of wife,
Not just once, but twice,
But I was disgracefully discarded,
And the loss of that identity was far from nice.
**
My favourite label, my most honoured title,
Was that of a full time mother,
This one I wore proudly, a mantle of sheer happiness,
One I’d happily live with for the rest of my days, not wanting any other.
**
But again the birds fly the nest,
And I do still hear the title Mum,
A title that never fails to cause my heart to swell with love,
Knowing I’ve still that one special someone.
**
But with the empty nest came a grappling pain,
Who am I now I’m no longer a wife, a loved daughter, a child, a young girl?
I guess I’m still an employee — for a few more years anyway,
And I’m starting to hear the label ‘senior’ as my years begin to unfurl.
**
Although a couple of labels still stick,
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve lost my purpose, my identity,
As I spend my days alone, unneeded, forgotten,
Not the once imagined peaceful serenity.
**
Who have I become?
What’s left of the mismatched individual I used to be?
Each title cast aside, a dead skin discarded,
Until I no longer know the identity of this new me!
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (4)
Whoever it be, may you be blessed to find you like her..., that you like her a lot.
This was so sad. Titles may come and go. Except this. An author. A published author. You'll always be one and no one can take that from you. You're also my friend and my kindred spirit. Sending you lots of love and hugs! ❤️
You’re still a Sister wanted and loved and always will be 💕💕💕
I felt the pain in your words as you described how difficult it is to find an identity that sticks. Great entry.