This Is Me
In a funhouse,
I stare in awe at my reflection,
Wishing I could live in a penthouse.
My life, my perspective, my bias keep me going in the right direction.
Imperfection,
That is I.
Dreamer of change
And witness to ignorance.
For it is I,
Who will preach it with conviction
The truths of our affliction
Upon our existence.
Optimistic,
That is I,
Who drives many ballistic,
With high hopes of leaving my depiction
Of true perfection
As utterly introspective.
This is me
And what I see
And one day hope to be.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.