Me of All People

I am broken beyond repair and flawless as well,

spinning logic and rendering it useless and disgraced.

I am wrong and I am right both simultaneously and equally,

never giving up the speed with which I transform myself idle.

I am a flea within a parasite wishing to be atom sized,

hoping that the universe will forgive me for my lack of stature.

I am at odds with myself and yet I feel at peace,

strangely satisfying an immensely unlikable contradiction.

I am charitable and I am generous but never at the same time,

drawing back the curtains and exposing the lies I have built my world around.

I am versatile, bending my pliable shape into correct and suitable formations,

exemplifying and incarnating a round peg lodged in a round hole.

I am figurative, like a gregarious rabbit pulling a magician out of its top hat,

elucidating the act of trickery and sorcery simply to convey a tired and dull point.

I am passionate, intensifying and augmenting every fire within every heart I touch,

transforming a red flicker of flame into a blue spectacle of an inferno at will.

I am more than what the thoughts of those around me describe me to be,

a joker, a loner, a fool, or an emotionless machine willing to accept social labels.

No, I am a mascot of unpredictability and randomized chaos,

barging into the room akin to an uninvited weather forecast prophesizing a storm.

Yes, I am a friend.

A friend for those in need, for those without voices, for those with no direction, for those with no purpose,

who need a hand to rescue them from drowning in their own tears.

I am not perfect, I am not ready for greatness, I am not the wall of fortitude people see when they look at me,

but why focus on what I am not when I can focus on what I can be?