Do You Blank?

You know One time I was asked Do you blank? All I could think of Was walking Down the plank Of a ship Of an indeterminate Pressure. But when I open that pressure And relieve that odd attachment Of my body I'm left as blank As the question I was asked. I ask the other person: Do YOU blank? Do YOU blank? Do YOU Blank? They reply: Of course. No. And yes. But does that make me bad? Now I don't know whether or not They're bad Sad, Dysfunctional Or mad. But What I do know, Is that looking In that Mirror, They look just as confused About the pressure I just placed on Them As I do About the Pressure They placed on Me. What you do Is not who you are What you choose Is not your heart. But I know That when I decide To derive That Exponential equation That is my life I still get me. And I know this is Confusing To you. But life Of a teen Will be forever Changing. And Confusing. So when it Made sense To you, It was you, It wasn't me. If it doesn't Make sense Now, Then it never will Be. Because individuals Fight. I Fight. To figure out Who they are. Who I Am. And when those Sticks And stones Are thrown As Metaphorical diction In a syntax That I have yet to Decipher, I still find it To hurt, And so do you, Pitcher. Although I may not Be ready To bat, I see that The only person Who's pitching Will mean anything Is the one Who looks back At me In the mirror. Do you blank? Does it matter? Because Whether I blank Or you Blank It isn't yours To tell. It's mine To tell, To feel What, To a teenager, Is an Apocalyptic Repercussion, To kiss the ground When I've Made it To an end That Is so Beautiful And yet So terrifying. Judge not One Another What you Cannot Judge Yourself. Ask YOUR self: Do you blank.