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"I am her"

It feels like every time I turn around it's there.
Haunting me.
Following me.
Laughing at me.
Scream at it.
Run like hell.
Love it.
Chase it.
Bring it.
Be it.
It,
your name.
But you are not your name.
You are not your skin.
You are not your hair.
You are not your eyes.
You are not your parents.
You are who you are.
You are why you are.
It feels like it's always there.
With me.
Dancing with me.
Laughing at time.
Watch it.
Run like hell.
Hate it.
Race it.
Drop it.
Loose it.
It feels like I am my name.
I am my skin
and my hair
and my eyes
and my father
and my mother
and more than anything else,
my brother.
I feel like I'm being judged by who I know.
And because they don't know my name.
Aren't you --'s daughter?
Sister?
Aren't I?
They've all done so much.
I feel like nothing.
I'm falling in their footsteps.
And drowning in their blood sweat and tears.
And while they bleed sweat and cry,
I watch.
I think that being recognized as those that do
would help me sleep at night.
But the thought puts me far from ease.
He's such a good guy,
you're lucky to be his sister.
Not lucky to be me?
I am not my name.
But my mother's name.
My father's name.
My brother's name.
But what's in a name?
If a rose is called something else
would it smell just as sweet?
If you called a rose broken glass
I fear we'd stay away.
I am my name
I am my mother's name
I am my father's name.
I am my brother's name.
I am my face
and my skin
And even why I am.
If I were to be called something else
would I be just as sweet?
Call me broken glass
and dare to walk across me.
I think I've become a shadow.
And empty shell.
But that position is already taken,
My shadow is right here with me.
The only one right here with me.
As I write in the dark
I mean no offense to my family.
They are here
they are so here
But not here.
I need someone to talk to.
Someone to listen,
I don't need someone to hear
I know you can hear what I'm saying
but are you really listening
to me?
But am not me
I am her.