Really My Name 

Sometimes I’m not sure that my name is my name;

When I hear all the horrible things people say that I’ve done 

And I contrast them with the me I know inside me;

I shiver and think ‘Is my name really my name?’

Sometimes I roll my name around in my tongue 

Hoping to taste the bitterness he said he tastes when he calls my name 

I broke his heart and destroyed his life?

That’s definitely not me. Or is my name really my name?

I keep messing up my name and I know it 

Despite the fact that it follows me everywhere I go

I spoil it and treat it like it doesn’t matter 

But it does matter because it is my identity.
I am working on myself now

Cleaning up my name 

Fixing it. 

Reinterpreting it.

No longer would anyone feel filth when they see my name 

No longer would they laugh in scorn when they hear my name 

No longer would they feel disgust when they think of my name 

No longer would he taste bitterness when he calls my name 

Instead, they would start to ask ‘is her name really her name?’ 

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