Tis' Just Me
What is in my chemical essence, my make up?
Tell me how I should describe myself to you when I’ve yet to deduce who I am
Should I explain superficial facts and conjure fictional stories
In attempts to lie my bare soul out for you
So that you may peer into my soul, dissect me into your groups
Simplify me into labels and facts like a machine
A literature robot of your own meaning
I s’pose then I should start on my story
For the past is filled with sorrows and tears, scrapes and bruises
And wounds that often time continue their oozes
Their crimson blood seeps into thoughts, leaving me insomniac
Who writes simple poetry at night and ponders all of human life
Who stares at galaxies and meteor showers, and drowns herself in oolong tea
Who dreams for hours and writes obscure bucket lists
Filled with ideas of nightshade tea, public nudity, and playing hide and seek in fields of flowers
The girl who wakes up with a zombie strut and cuddles
Her lovebug, her cat when she wakes up
Using the fur as a hooded cloak to avoid what awaits her during the day
As she drives to school, blaring music no one’s ever heard of
And slams dashboard and wheel violently, obnoxiously rolling her eyes
As the drives a mess and her day never seems to start out right
Smushed between school bus and ludicrous humans in the cursed morning
As she arrives in time to fall into the typical strut,
Sharing her busy days and sleepless nights, her trials and strife of belly dancing the night before
With her dear friend that she simply adores
And realizing her schedule is full galore, grows into a mood of discontent and abhor
As she passes out slips of paper in pastel hues or simply passes out period
She smiles a glimmer at memories of the summer
Full of experiences from her wildest dreams in which she’s accomplished so much more than it seems
In which she recalls friends, tea gardens, and exploring the world
Wishing once more she was a nomadic girl
As she trudges on to her next class making polite as she passes
She feels as if she’s trapped in a world of plastic
Desiring to be free from her chained cell and ready to further herself so much more
Excited to tackle on the world with open arms
Passing letters out in stamped armor
Ready to feel the jazz of new Orleans enrapture my soul
Or the Tundra of Alaskan winds scrape against my skin
Marking me with red as I swirl and paint pictures in black liquid
Checking for purities and fracturing land to reach the sludge essence I consider gold
The one who escapes into psychological books and old history
Who thrives off of lessons of Osho and Miyamoto
Who realizes learning is the only way to live
Or to give up upon facts and condemn myself to a future worse than biblical reference could imagine
Who strives for perfection
And runs to steams of yoga and tarot cards
Violent slashing of red paintings and popping balloons for the sake of amusement
When it becomes so much that my sixth sense of claustrophobia sets in
Screaming in agony and fear at whatever stands in the distance waiting to envelop me in icy grip
The lonely girl who stresses on projects and stands unnoticed in the school environment
But blooms into an energetic, warm soul at the beat of music
Or the crunch of chips and flowing party atmosphere
I am the girl ready to take on the world with passion and desire,
But most importantly a hunger for more
A thirst to consume everything my eyes will allow me
Wanting to discover the world through cuisines whether it be
Finish candies or South African extravaganzas
Bowls of Pho or 50’s Diner Dives
A need to experience every odd hobby simply for the purpose of trying it
Knowledge in that I am one of Darwinism’s Natural Selections because
I whether through storm and hurricanes, earth quakes and typhoons
To stand before you today
As individuality is my compass
And my friends my GPS in this beautifully, tragic place I call home
I am neither simple nor easy to discover, but give me moments
Glimmers will turn into something deeply meaningful
My quirks will become easy to spot like a constellation revealing itself to you for the first time
My love for the world will be imprinted on you like a song on the radio
But most of all you will Learn of Who I am and Who I’ve yet to be
Because I am forever growing
A Venus Fly Trap with tinged leaves and burned roots refuses to stop even in it’s pleas of “Feed Me”,
So why should I an advanced person ever allow myself to be less than a plant
I shall grow till my leaves wrap me in a canopy and I cocoon for one last sleep I figured the best way to attempt to describe me is through my passions of painting or poetry, and since this is a literary class, I assumed a poem might be more adequate for this project.
What is in my chemical essence, my make up?
Tell me how I should describe myself to you when I’ve yet to deduce who I am
Should I explain superficial facts and conjure fictional stories
In attempts to lie my bare soul out for you
So that you may peer into my soul, dissect me into your groups
Simplify me into labels and facts like a machine
A literature robot of your own meaning
I s’pose then I should start on my story
For the past is filled with sorrows and tears, scrapes and bruises
And wounds that often time continue their oozes
Their crimson blood seeps into thoughts, leaving me insomniac
Who writes simple poetry at night and ponders all of human life
Who stares at galaxies and meteor showers, and drowns herself in oolong tea
Who dreams for hours and writes obscure bucket lists
Filled with ideas of nightshade tea, public nudity, and playing hide and seek in fields of flowers
The girl who wakes up with a zombie strut and cuddles
Her lovebug, her cat when she wakes up
Using the fur as a hooded cloak to avoid what awaits her during the day
As she drives to school, blaring music no one’s ever heard of
And slams dashboard and wheel violently, obnoxiously rolling her eyes
As the drives a mess and her day never seems to start out right
Smushed between school bus and ludicrous humans in the cursed morning
As she arrives in time to fall into the typical strut,
Sharing her busy days and sleepless nights, her trials and strife of belly dancing the night before
With her dear friend that she simply adores
And realizing her schedule is full galore, grows into a mood of discontent and abhor
As she passes out slips of paper in pastel hues or simply passes out period
She smiles a glimmer at memories of the summer
Full of experiences from her wildest dreams in which she’s accomplished so much more than it seems
In which she recalls friends, tea gardens, and exploring the world
Wishing once more she was a nomadic girl
As she trudges on to her next class making polite as she passes
She feels as if she’s trapped in a world of plastic
Desiring to be free from her chained cell and ready to further herself so much more
Excited to tackle on the world with open arms
Passing letters out in stamped armor
Ready to feel the jazz of new Orleans enrapture my soul
Or the Tundra of Alaskan winds scrape against my skin
Marking me with red as I swirl and paint pictures in black liquid
Checking for purities and fracturing land to reach the sludge essence I consider gold
The one who escapes into psychological books and old history
Who thrives off of lessons of Osho and Miyamoto
Who realizes learning is the only way to live
Or to give up upon facts and condemn myself to a future worse than biblical reference could imagine
Who strives for perfection
And runs to steams of yoga and tarot cards
Violent slashing of red paintings and popping balloons for the sake of amusement
When it becomes so much that my sixth sense of claustrophobia sets in
Screaming in agony and fear at whatever stands in the distance waiting to envelop me in icy grip
The lonely girl who stresses on projects and stands unnoticed in the school environment
But blooms into an energetic, warm soul at the beat of music
Or the crunch of chips and flowing party atmosphere
I am the girl ready to take on the world with passion and desire,
But most importantly a hunger for more
A thirst to consume everything my eyes will allow me
Wanting to discover the world through cuisines whether it be
Finish candies or South African extravaganzas
Bowls of Pho or 50’s Diner Dives
A need to experience every odd hobby simply for the purpose of trying it
Knowledge in that I am one of Darwinism’s Natural Selections because
I whether through storm and hurricanes, earth quakes and typhoons
To stand before you today
As individuality is my compass
And my friends my GPS in this beautifully, tragic place I call home
I am neither simple nor easy to discover, but give me moments
Glimmers will turn into something deeply meaningful
My quirks will become easy to spot like a constellation revealing itself to you for the first time
My love for the world will be imprinted on you like a song on the radio
But most of all you will Learn of Who I am and Who I’ve yet to be
Because I am forever growing
A Venus Fly Trap with tinged leaves and burned roots refuses to stop even in it’s pleas of “Feed Me”,
So why should I an advanced person ever allow myself to be less than a plant
I shall grow till my leaves wrap me in a canopy and I cocoon for one last sleep