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Accepting Who You Are

Depression and anxiety are like war. And I am sure most people who go through it agree with me. I have had anxiety and mild depression since forever. And it was really difficult for me to accept myself and love who I am. Initially, I only wrote poems and stories about darkness and defeat. It's been a while since I have started writing inspirational stuff. I want the world to know it's not that difficult to love who you are and be what you want to be. A little courage is all it takes.

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The poem touched me very much. To be in sorrow or melancholy is somewhat natural. No one is apart from it. But the fact is, man in depression or in dark always lit fire for the others. Thus...

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Before I...

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Published: January 18, 2017

Before I became strong, I knew what it was like
To be weak,
How difficult it is to love yourself,
To find the wholeness that you seek.

Before I knew the light,
I have had my fair share of darkness, too,
Where my world fell into a hopelessness
And I didn't know how to get through.

For I have known the tears it takes,
The courage to stand up again,
When you are broken down and bruised
And you know nothing but the pain.

You forget to appreciate love,
If you haven't seen the hate,
Till you forget the meaning of smile and laughter,
And your heart is left abate.

I have known the strength and courage
It requires to get it right,
To face the things that hold you down
And hold your head up and fight.

Before I was who I am now,
I was someone I didn't want to be.
I was lost, battered, and defeated,
Before I knew how to be me!

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • by Abu Zafar, Banglaesh
  • 1 month ago

The poem touched me very much. To be in sorrow or melancholy is somewhat natural. No one is apart from it. But the fact is, man in depression or in dark always lit fire for the others. Thus it is not only your poem that I like but I like you too.

  • by Kaitlin Ann Wheeler
  • 6 months ago

Here I wait, love is done. No reason I shall cry, no harm is done, so why? So why? Why do I cry? I cry because there are no arms to hold me close.

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