Revelations To Myself.

by PoeticJustice   Feb 25, 2008


I be it not of the type that you can break
I be it not of the kind that you can weaken
I be it not of the ones that you can duplicate
I am of what makes the doubted prevail
I am of what fight until there is death
I am of what with a will makes a way
I do admit that I have failed
I do admit that I have lied
I do admit that I have shattered promises
I be it not of the perfect
I am of what defines perseverance
I do admit that I am me, and only Me.

0


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 9 years ago

    by Anne Garcia

    Wow, that was a very interesting type of poem. It was great.. keep it up!

  • 10 years ago

    by Sylvia

    Wow! I love it!

More Poems By PoeticJustice