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Kaylee

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since April 2013
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Everything

April 20, 2013
What am I? I am brave and strong, and yet I am afraid. Weak. I can move mountains, but more often than not I like to make them. When people see me, they smile, but they also shudder and cower away. I am warm, comforting, and fulfilling, but at the same time I am hard, harsh, I can leave people hollow and cold upon the ground. Many stroke my soft outline with fondness and cut their fingers upon my jagged edges. I am a thought, I am an idea, I am a word, I am an object, I am a feeling. I am a show, a story, a game, a piece of this puzzle we call life, and yet a puzzle in my own. I am the thing everyone knows of, yet not everyone has known. I am the ugliness behind broken dreams, and the beauty that lights our world, that makes it move, whether those movements be good or bad. I am a revolutionizer, a mover and changer of people. I am simple, and complicated; joyful, and sad; harsh, and sweet. I am all these things and many, many more. I am everything. I am love.
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