I am the voice in my head.

I am a mind of juxtaposing ramblings.
I am a dormant volcano.
I am a sage of old, resurrected from the depths.
I am the gavel of my fate.
I am a kick, a jolt, a tremor.
I am the proverbial black cat lurking in the corner.
I am a beehive of inexhaustible honey.
I am a garden of fresh roses, tended by the glow and radiance of spring.
I am an eternal apprentice –always panting for the answers, always itching, always scrubbing the itch.
I am a diamond in the making.
I am a wide-eyed kid.
I am a squirming earthworm.
I am a crushed grape, oozing with a sweet-sour juice.
I am an herbal salve.
I am a thunder, hidden in a whimper.
I am a door slightly ajar.
I am a knot untangled.
I am a gypsy, a nomad, a voyager coasting along the billowing waves of the seas.
I am mommy eagle –sharp-clawed, yet tender-hearted.
I am a progeny of Gabriela Silang, a secret admirer of the great Jose Rizal
I am fruit-king — spiky on the outside, soft and succulent deep down. ( I also emit an offensive smell to squint-eyed truth twisters)
I am a flaming sword.

I am my tears crystallized.