My life is and was the sunshine on the flower garden.
My breath is the cotton swab used to sanitize and disinfect.
My arms are your nutrition and your protection.
My legs are the glass and my body is the hall closet filled with secrets.
My mind is your clock and your diary, but it is not the unstable wind.
I am not the temple and I am not the god that you worship.
I am not the cool pillow underneath the sick baby girl, nor am I the pen you use to write.
I am not pain.
I am not happiness.
I am not despair.
I can be the air, not to be mistaken for the dancing breeze.
I can be the spot on the cheetah, not every spot that makes it unique.
I can be the furnace, not the wood used to start it.
My world is not the rain, the sun, or the snow.
My life is not time, love, or defeat.
My temptation is not easy, difficult, or mild.
I am me.
I am my own.
I am life.