Why is it that the world seems to unravel all the obvious little known facts that string together our identity until who we are becomes the intellectual knot we spend our entire lives trying to straighten out?
In the fifth grade, I won an essay competition with my first poem. I enjoyed a most rewarding day, not for having won an award, but for witnessing the power of my words. I found in poetry the ability to express myself in ways oral communication would not allow. Drawn to depth and dramatic appeal, I write in an intense manner; a habit I’ve transformed into an artistic style I embrace.
Perhaps the best way to gain a glimpse into who I am is to read my poetry; every time I write a poem, I deconstruct the world, hidden within it, I discover a piece of myself. Thus, to answer my question, we lose ourselves so that we may find ourselves. How boring would it be to possess an absolute self-image and stand along the waters of Eden to witness only your reflection? So for now I will write and honor that art which has so kindly saved a multitude of lost souls.
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