I Am...

Tue, 11/03/2015 - 20:49 -- aemd97

Does a fallen tree make sound?

Not if there’s no one around to hear it.

 

I’ve been dropped repeatedly 

Like a case full of bad habits that no one wants to hang on to

And no one pauses to hear me hit the ground.

I’m a mark on the sidewalk

On the road of wrong turns.

People step on me— 

 

I’m a weed, a pest

That you call the exterminator to drown in bug spray

I latch onto your insecurities

And breed new ones to kiss away the delicacy of your certainty

 

I roam around, an empty shell

Tripping over the remains of the past

Wishing I could gather up the sorrows of goodbyes in my hands

And blow them to the harsh winds

To be carried away to the meadows of blooming flowers

Where beauty overcomes tragedy

Where mistakes are greeted with absolute forgiveness

 

I question the validity of emotions

Are they simply easy to remove?

Are feelings just wet bandaids with bad adhesive covering up old scars?

Are they temporary solutions to deep rooted pain and regret?

 

Or are they vastly complex except when applied to me?

 

If “the marks humans leave are too often scars”

Then why is your skin so clean

When I could be the college paper of last night efforts and mountains of added red pen?

A quick thrown together, half assed pursuit of human with flaws the size of glaciers— 

 

If nature is accurate in its natural selection

Is that why I’m the runt that keeps getting tossed from the nest?

Neglect to inform me that I have wings

And their defining purpose of survival

Allow me to crash through branches

Landing on an Earth who rejects my search for happiness

Who mocks my suffering with the retellings of the joyful

Give me the chance to flap my broken wings

In hopes the air will pull weakness from my limbs

And make me soar

Perhaps with reckless abandon

 

The romanticism of my journey

Will meet the adoration of my misguided peers

“My incredible strength” to overcome

The challenges of my existence

 

Fighting false hopes with dreams washed away

With tears forming tides

That refuse to drag the sails of inconsistencies

Of fantasized good times

In the end, I’m just a girl

With no specific memories of abandonment 

Just a constant plague of hopelessness

That I cover with smiles and laughs

 

And strangely I can hear the echoes of the world laughing too…

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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