Are Teens Simply Machines?

Some call me a math prodigy,

Others state a rocket scientist,

I am an oddity, probably an anomaly.

But, despite what others label me,

I call myself a revolutionary,

With the brain to hold a considerable dictionary

Those who state, 

That you are either a physicist,

Or a linguist,

Are wrong. 

I am both.

With enough imagination, 

You can turn advanced computations,

Into a beautiful narration, 

On how our galaxy's gyration,

And the mysteries of gravitation,

Supersede explanation,

On how there are no limitations,

On either calculations or conversations,

As when you look at the oscillations,

Of String Theory's Observations,

You see a truly beautiful violation,

Of all known information,

A continuation,

Of the dissemination 

Of laws accepted by civilization,

Now is a time for reevaluation,

Of what is the obsession with classification,

In my generation, 

As I am not an automation,

Forced to act through temptation,

And inclination,

But a culmination,

Of my reputation,

And my only mechanization,

Is my imagination.

So I call myself a revolutionary,

As I dare to be both a physicist and linguist.

To break boundaries loudly

In hopes of changing the label assigned

That disables my peace of mind

 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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