Human

Fragmented and whole.

Dealt a blow by this world and its inhabitants.

Pieces of me fell about but where I was missing, I forged myself anew.

I too am young and old.

Foolish enough to think that I am capable of much more than what my age permits but wise enough to know where I must restrain myself.

I am an optimist and a realist.

Maintaining a positive mind but accepting of the things in this world that I cannot change. 

I cannot be defined by one word-for even attempting to do such a thing would be madness-for that of which I am. 

But I am sane enough to know myself. 

One word does not define me.

Neither does all.

Then what does this make me?

It makes me Human.

Nothing greater nor any less.

I am Human.  

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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