Each day will come

Today, I discovered that I am afraid to grow

To become the person I would turn out to be

Scared to find answers to questions I have asked

And terrified to be probed for answers about me.

Would I be a friend who steps up to the plate?

Or would I be without friends who cannot relate

When would I tell the stories that deeply resonate?

Or would my words forever remain unknown?

How would I find love so unsullied?

And even if I do, would I allow myself to be loved?

Is it possible to see underneath my face?

Beauty that can surpass my name?

Is it too late to learn the forbidden tongue,

That can set me free on the search for identity?

With each passing day, I come closer to

Taking the first step in this mysterious journey.

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