It Became Me

I don't quite know when
It became me.

The choices, the voices
The silent regrets

The spoken, and unspoken
The miasma set

I am uncertain yet, but the writing was loud
In bold purple, behind a scarlet cloud

It became me
When I claimed a hiding place
It became me
When I made my out-there face
It became me
When I stopped running and got out of breath
It became me
When I began worrying about death

It became me
When I began to ignore that it was a misfit.
It became me
When I stopped looking for it.

It became me.
A semi-person that I did not wish to be.