Stirred emotions, rise and fall,
In the cauldron of my youth.
Its murky depths call to me,
Beckoning with the truth.

Who am I? What is me?
What’s this thing called self?
Oh, to know those riches,
Worth more than any wealth.

Yet my cauldron is so very deep,
Brimming full of pain.
A surface seldom broken.
Such anguish well-contained.

For many years, no one saw,
The hurt that lay beneath.
Instead, they witnessed strangeness,
And recoiled in disbelief.

I still can’t recall my actions.
I don’t know what I said.
As my cauldron runneth over,
And filled you all with dread.

You saw no rhyme, you saw no reason,
Just odd, bizarre behaviour.
When way down deep, was a broken child,
Hoping for a saviour.

The anger spilling over,
Was that child, gasping for air.
As he slowly sank, deeper still,
Drowning in despair.

Now, many years have passed,
Since he slipped away.
A lost child in dark waters,
That is… until today.

He caught a glimpse of sunshine,
And reaches for the sky.
Swimming for the surface,
Longing to be dry.

And soon I will emerge again,
Those black waters will turn clear.
I’ll step forth into the light once more,
With nothing left to fear.

To be myself, know who I am,
Is all I want for me.
A life fulfilled, a soul complete,
Happy and carefree.

Then perhaps, we’ll meet again,
You, me, myself and I.
You’ll see my whole reality,
I’ll smile and likely cry.

Because that childhood torn asunder,
Will finally be put to rest.
Those days will be long behind us,
And you’ll see me at my best.

What do you think?