Tis' Just Me

 

What is in my chemical essence, my make up?

Tell me how I should describe myself to you when I’ve yet to deduce who I am

Should I explain superficial facts and conjure fictional stories

In attempts to lie my bare soul out for you

So that you may peer into my soul, dissect me into your groups

Simplify me into labels and facts like a machine

A literature robot of your own meaning

I s’pose then I should start on my story

For the past is filled with sorrows and tears, scrapes and bruises

And wounds that often time continue their oozes

Their crimson blood seeps into thoughts, leaving me insomniac

Who writes simple poetry at night and ponders all of human life

Who stares at galaxies and meteor showers, and drowns herself in oolong tea

Who dreams for hours and writes obscure bucket lists

Filled with ideas of nightshade tea, public nudity, and playing hide and seek in fields of flowers

The girl who wakes up with a zombie strut and cuddles

Her lovebug, her cat when she wakes up

Using the fur as a hooded cloak to avoid what awaits her during the day

As she drives to school, blaring music no one’s ever heard of

And slams dashboard and wheel violently, obnoxiously rolling her eyes

As the drives a mess and her day never seems to start out right

Smushed between school bus and ludicrous humans in the cursed morning

As she arrives in time to fall into the typical strut,

Sharing her busy days and sleepless nights, her trials and strife of belly dancing the night before

With her dear friend that she simply adores

And realizing her schedule is full galore, grows into a mood of discontent and abhor

As she passes out slips of paper in pastel hues or simply passes out period

She smiles a glimmer at memories of the summer

Full of experiences from her wildest dreams in which she’s accomplished so much more than it seems

In which she recalls friends, tea gardens, and exploring the world

Wishing once more she was a nomadic girl

As she trudges on to her next class making polite as she passes

She feels as if she’s trapped in a world of plastic

Desiring to be free from her chained cell and ready to further herself so much more

Excited to tackle on the world with open arms

Passing letters out in stamped armor

Ready to feel the jazz of new Orleans enrapture my soul

Or the Tundra of Alaskan winds scrape against my skin

Marking me with red as I swirl and paint pictures in black liquid

Checking for purities and fracturing land to reach the sludge essence I consider gold

The one who escapes into psychological books and old history

Who thrives off of lessons of Osho and Miyamoto

Who realizes learning is the only way to live

Or to give up upon facts and condemn myself to a future worse than biblical reference could imagine

Who strives for perfection

And runs to steams of yoga and tarot cards

Violent slashing of red paintings and popping balloons for the sake of amusement

When it becomes so much that my sixth sense of claustrophobia sets in

Screaming in agony and fear at whatever stands in the distance waiting to envelop me in icy grip

The lonely girl who stresses on projects and stands unnoticed in the school environment

But blooms into an energetic, warm soul at the beat of music

Or the crunch of chips and flowing party atmosphere

I am the girl ready to take on the world with passion and desire,

But most importantly a hunger for more

A thirst to consume everything my eyes will allow me

Wanting to discover the world through cuisines whether it be

Finish candies or South African extravaganzas

Bowls of Pho or 50’s Diner Dives

A need to experience every odd hobby simply for the purpose of trying it

Knowledge in that I am one of Darwinism’s Natural Selections because

I whether through storm and hurricanes, earth quakes and typhoons

To stand before you today

As individuality is my compass

And my friends my GPS in this beautifully, tragic place I call home

I am neither simple nor easy to discover, but give me moments

Glimmers will turn into something deeply meaningful

My quirks will become easy to spot like a constellation revealing itself to you for the first time

My love for the world will be imprinted on you like a song on the radio

But most of all you will Learn of Who I am and Who I’ve yet to be

Because I am forever growing

A Venus Fly Trap with tinged leaves and burned roots refuses to stop even in it’s pleas of “Feed Me”,

So why should I an advanced person ever allow myself to be less than a plant

I shall grow till my leaves wrap me in a canopy and I cocoon for one last sleep I figured the best way to attempt to describe me is through my passions of painting or poetry, and since this is a literary class, I assumed a poem might be more adequate for this project.

 

What is in my chemical essence, my make up?

Tell me how I should describe myself to you when I’ve yet to deduce who I am

Should I explain superficial facts and conjure fictional stories

In attempts to lie my bare soul out for you

So that you may peer into my soul, dissect me into your groups

Simplify me into labels and facts like a machine

A literature robot of your own meaning

I s’pose then I should start on my story

For the past is filled with sorrows and tears, scrapes and bruises

And wounds that often time continue their oozes

Their crimson blood seeps into thoughts, leaving me insomniac

Who writes simple poetry at night and ponders all of human life

Who stares at galaxies and meteor showers, and drowns herself in oolong tea

Who dreams for hours and writes obscure bucket lists

Filled with ideas of nightshade tea, public nudity, and playing hide and seek in fields of flowers

The girl who wakes up with a zombie strut and cuddles

Her lovebug, her cat when she wakes up

Using the fur as a hooded cloak to avoid what awaits her during the day

As she drives to school, blaring music no one’s ever heard of

And slams dashboard and wheel violently, obnoxiously rolling her eyes

As the drives a mess and her day never seems to start out right

Smushed between school bus and ludicrous humans in the cursed morning

As she arrives in time to fall into the typical strut,

Sharing her busy days and sleepless nights, her trials and strife of belly dancing the night before

With her dear friend that she simply adores

And realizing her schedule is full galore, grows into a mood of discontent and abhor

As she passes out slips of paper in pastel hues or simply passes out period

She smiles a glimmer at memories of the summer

Full of experiences from her wildest dreams in which she’s accomplished so much more than it seems

In which she recalls friends, tea gardens, and exploring the world

Wishing once more she was a nomadic girl

As she trudges on to her next class making polite as she passes

She feels as if she’s trapped in a world of plastic

Desiring to be free from her chained cell and ready to further herself so much more

Excited to tackle on the world with open arms

Passing letters out in stamped armor

Ready to feel the jazz of new Orleans enrapture my soul

Or the Tundra of Alaskan winds scrape against my skin

Marking me with red as I swirl and paint pictures in black liquid

Checking for purities and fracturing land to reach the sludge essence I consider gold

The one who escapes into psychological books and old history

Who thrives off of lessons of Osho and Miyamoto

Who realizes learning is the only way to live

Or to give up upon facts and condemn myself to a future worse than biblical reference could imagine

Who strives for perfection

And runs to steams of yoga and tarot cards

Violent slashing of red paintings and popping balloons for the sake of amusement

When it becomes so much that my sixth sense of claustrophobia sets in

Screaming in agony and fear at whatever stands in the distance waiting to envelop me in icy grip

The lonely girl who stresses on projects and stands unnoticed in the school environment

But blooms into an energetic, warm soul at the beat of music

Or the crunch of chips and flowing party atmosphere

I am the girl ready to take on the world with passion and desire,

But most importantly a hunger for more

A thirst to consume everything my eyes will allow me

Wanting to discover the world through cuisines whether it be

Finish candies or South African extravaganzas

Bowls of Pho or 50’s Diner Dives

A need to experience every odd hobby simply for the purpose of trying it

Knowledge in that I am one of Darwinism’s Natural Selections because

I whether through storm and hurricanes, earth quakes and typhoons

To stand before you today

As individuality is my compass

And my friends my GPS in this beautifully, tragic place I call home

I am neither simple nor easy to discover, but give me moments

Glimmers will turn into something deeply meaningful

My quirks will become easy to spot like a constellation revealing itself to you for the first time

My love for the world will be imprinted on you like a song on the radio

But most of all you will Learn of Who I am and Who I’ve yet to be

Because I am forever growing

A Venus Fly Trap with tinged leaves and burned roots refuses to stop even in it’s pleas of “Feed Me”,

So why should I an advanced person ever allow myself to be less than a plant

I shall grow till my leaves wrap me in a canopy and I cocoon for one last sleep 

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