Cookie Cutter

I am a cookie cutter

Sharp edges and commonplace

Useless on my own

 

I am a cookie cutter

Brown bright eyes as a college freshman

Taking gen ed

18 years old

I came in a set, a graduating class, a team,

And looked just like everyone else.

 

I am a cookie cutter

My shape so unique

It’s pressed into the matter of another

To take away myself

 

I am a cookie cutter

Inside the cupboard you closed 21 months ago

And never reopened.

You locked me away for such a long time

I began to wonder about the sunshine.

Did it ever really exist, or was it just a figment of my imagination,

A delusion to combat the darkness?

My edges are too sharp for you to hold,

Did I ever taste that sweetness of you?

Or was it just the dough you used me to mold?

 

I am a cookie cutter.

I live a basic life,

An archetype most authors steer away from.

I turned the cookie cutter on myself,

Silver and sharp and cold.

I didn’t eat the cookies,

Or anything else.

 

No matter, no more,

Break me out of my mold,

See the laugh lines like parentheses

And the chip in my nail polish.

Learn to surprise yourself,

Maybe I don’t look like everyone else.  

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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