I let it go. The version of myself that wasn't true. The one that couldn't hear me, Or understand that I'm fragile. The type of person who didn't know when to rest, How vital boundries are, And the need to stop and breathe. I let it go, The version of me that was available for everyone but myself. The one who sat in chairs that weren't for me. While looking in the mirror for everyone elses image. I let it go, The version of myself that had no morals, But bent standards. The one who cried victim, And hid behind her tears. I let it go, The version of me that guessed, Instead of knowing. The one who was more concerned about friends and family, Then the heart of the Father. I let it go, The fear of man, Their opinions And words, Just thrown at my identity. I let it go, Running in place to keep up with people who have no morals, Crying over people who are committed to misunderstanding me, Being a version of myself, to be loved by the world. I let it all go, To be the me that was created, The version that is written, The one whom calls me to peace, The person who understands rest, And dances with Wisdom. I let it go, To never pick it up. To leave it behind, No RIP shirt, No lit candle, No a tear to be shed. Because I let it go.