I am whatever you say l am... The only ear that snaps up like a dog who hears his master’s steps outside — when someone needs a listening ear. The hand that reaches out to people who need a hand. A hand -a- lier you named me. Yes. I am whatever you say I am. The "confident girl" who never hangs her head, not knowing that strength comes after you break. I am whatever you say I am. A girl who doesn’t want trouble, so she keeps quiet, forgives everything — too blind to see that drops of water carve stone. Quiet doesn’t mean small, and soft things stack until they crush you. All the names got it wrong. Maybe it never gets found — because I lost who I am from the many labels crammed into my skull. The only difference is my heart knows the difference between what you say I am and who I am. My heart knows me with all the 101 papers jammed in the bin like a shrine. Hiding her bleeding hands in gloves, hiding the cuts from writing too much pain, things I took in but didn’t let out. How much blood does this quill owe me? So I go with what you say and keep what I am here, deep, looking closer, unseen. My heart. So alright. I am whatever you say I am.