Stop the falling apart

I guess I have been thinking
That comes so easily
How to write about my life
To help things become clearer to me
Some day I might understand why I need to write
How the words need to flow
why I need to type.
Here is a start

Scared and Afraid,
Tired . . . Worn
You can see it in her face;
it's dimmer than before,
Her crystal sapphire eyes.
Her drooping golden hair.
Her traces of distress.
Her hope is barely there.
She is the one who lives the life of constant marked disguise.
She is the one.

Hopeful, patient,
understanding and good. . .
You can see it in her gait.
Her constant stride.
Her poise and grace.
Her deliberate movement.
Her self-confidence is there.
She is the one who lives the life of constant marked disguise.
She is the one.

Worn and Bitter,
Resentful and mean.
You can hear it in her voice.
Her cold response.
Her sarcastic defense.
Her lack of laughter.
Her home-made fence.
She is the one who lives the life of constant marked disguise.
She is the one.

Gentle and loving,
pure, good.
You can see it in her arms.
Her outward reaching.
Her gentle caress.
Her worn calloused hands.
Her lifting those in distress.
She is the one who lives the life of constant marked disguise.
She is the one.

How can she be all of these things,
which of these things are real?
Which of these things can she give up
when each of these things she feels?
She is the one who is tired of living the life of constant marked disguise.
She is the one.