"My Honest Poem" is Part One in Hannah Marie's poetry collection, Name Change. The collection addresses complexities associated with change. "My Honest Poem" captures internal conflicts between self-doubt and self-confidence.
Hannah Marie is a native of Natchez, MS. A local poet and a former music teacher, she graduated from Alcorn State University with a Bachelor’s Degree in Vocal Music Education. She and her husband, Jacoby Gilmore, are the founders of The Quarantine Ministry, an outreach ministry based in Natchez, MS and Dallas, TX.
"My Honest Poem"
Collection: Name Change
They say I’m out of pocket.
Truth is, I’ve never been in one.
I’ve always been out of the ordinary,
Or what some would call a mess.
Just a dramatic scene to distract the audience of the real pain hidden inside.
I overthink … EVERYTHING.
It takes 5 mins to bury myself in my cerebral burial site.
It takes 5 months to actually realize I’m not dead,
Then at least 5 years to dig myself out.
My mouth opens before my brain can stop it.
Spitting out things that never really matter
Because the words that hold weight stays anchored to my heart,
Never to be exposed to the light,
Trapped behind bars of fear.
I’m the epitome of ”you’re too hard on yourself”.
I always seem to single out my flaws
And hardly ever give myself credit for anything good in this world.
Am I even something good in this world?
I’m an explorer,
Searching for love in all the wrong places.
Wasting my time treking dangerous territory.
Trying to find a heart somewhere in this lost city of gold,
A heart I could call my own.
Mine isn’t quite good enough for me.
I’m indecisive.
Of course I say I’ll take the road less traveled,
But my feet sometimes go in the opposite direction.
I’ll tell you, “I’ll try something different today”,
Then still order my usual.
I don’t have a favorite color,
But I really love the color blue,
Alot!
And the color burgundy,
And maybe even purple too.
I get jealous,
More often than I would like to admit.
I hate the thought of someone I love needing someone else more than me.
I hate how I need to feel needed,
Never stopping to realize the person who needs me the most is me.
Sometimes I think I’m too honest.
I spill too much of my truth into immature hands.
My heart cracks as I watch it seep from the cracks between their fingers.
Honesty gone to waste again.
I guess, I’m just trying to say I’m perfectly imperfect.
Yet, God still loves me.
He even leaves his own flock of sheep to come find me whenever I stray.
And he still chose me to help lead his kingdom on this earth.
Maybe … I’m not as useless as I force myself to believe.
Maybe ... I’m everything that God needs me to be.
Maybe ... I’m everything that I need me to be.
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