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
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?’