Questions and doubts plague me a constant
Every word I spell a chore for I doubt
As I write I edit and delete
Changing them into submission and supplication
For who am I to dare to speak
For who am I to think worthy of being heard
For who am I to dare to voice
For who am I to feel I could
I mimic in misery while fully aware
That the brilliance of me that comes out at times
That makes you see, hear, laugh and may be even respect
Is nothing in truth but my disguise
Of the garment woven craftily from countless personalities
That I see, that I hear, that I read and am in awe of
Of the countless you’ll I constantly try to match and fail
For who am I to dare to dream
That I could truly be me and still matter...