I was born with a blank space. Identity: Unknown.
Within the void was opportunity
where wonderment should go.
A few years older someone tried to fill that space,
with black ores, white shards, shades of pewter grey.
Stupid. Weak. Ugly. A new identity encased.
My blank space began to fill with another opinion of who I ought to be.
Every slap, roar, and “late-night-visit”
Compiled darkness inlayed within me.
A few years older still, I looked in the mirror bereft,
I didn’t recognize the face I’d seen, the blank space now filled with fear.
Every corner shaded, not a speck of space was left.
I slowly began to strip my soul of all the things I knew.
I filled that space with colour, laughter, forgiveness,
and a little bit of self-respect revived my identity anew.
I learned a simple lesson, some might say a revelation:
That when you allow someone else to colour your blank space
you’ll never truly be free from them.
So I ask that when someone tries to colour within your lines,
You take that brush, chisel, or whittle in your own hand
and never again let them fill the blank space inside.