Who I Am Poem by Thea Pound

Who am I, you ask?
Antinomian nature, battling tirelessly,
With antithetical reflections.
Views and emotions without balance,
Diametrically opposed, yet never nullified.
Echoes distorted by repetition,
'Till they become indistinguishable;
Sounds drowning in sounds.
Treason and treachery,
Violence against all causes and claims,
Conflicting views, futility and hope,
Nihility and destiny, endless contradiction;
I am war.

Who am I, you ask?
Insatiable dreams and runaway schemes,
Desperation driven to completion.
Hollowness and void ever demanding to be filled,
Hunger for truth and justice, which knows no peace,
Self-devouring judgments and guilt eating away at my history;
An appetite for destruction.
A ravening predator, pursuing my ideals,
And hunting knowledge,
Starving for affection and understanding.
A taste for the bittersweet,
And a strong stomach for the unpalatable;
I am famine.

Who am I, you ask?
Feverish mania, and crawling in my skin,
Erratic shifts in mood and mind,
All consuming nausea born from fear of dedication,
Anxiety, panic attacks and flashbacks,
From unbidden memories.
Addiction to pain, giving rise to pleasure,
Shaking and shivering at each dizzying revelation,
And plagued by indecision and doubt.
Aching body and restless mind, never able to still,
Diseased and broken, fuelled by dysfunction;
I am pestilence.

Who am I, you ask?
A chilling abstract, derealized and depersonalized,
Spreading numbness and cold to the touch;
Regrets voiced, too little too late,
Silence and an unspoken promise,
A farewell that lays all dreams to rest.
A lingering threat of an unavoidable fate,
An inescapable outcome; ash and dust.
A hollow kind of peace, empty and dark,
Soft shadow and eternal night,
Mourning for what could have been,
And stillborn hopes never to be achieved;
I am death.