Middle of the road
As the wind glazes
Swiftly gliding across my body
My whole self is overcome
Overwhelmed, overpowered
By my lack of understanding.
My bewilderment carries on
Chasing me like a predator.
Ploughing me with questions
Making me question me.
Can it be stupidity or simplicity?
Is it possible or apprehend able
to know something isn't stable?
Something's not right, not ok.
Why do I feel that my path
Is attempting to escape from me?
How can I depart
From this very spot where I'm at
When I haven't dealt with me.
Am I indeed too stupid or simple
To understand me?
I am a flower
With no petals no aroma
No shape, no colour.
I don't get it.
How is it even possible
That I exist yet I'm formless?
Tasteless, soundless, senseless.
I'm a thing
Without being anything.
Or am I wrong?
Am I really nothing more
Than something unknown?
Everyone else has it figured out.
Everyone seems to be in tuned
With their function and purpose.
I on the other hand am uncertain.
Does that make me eerie?
Does that conclude me as alien?
How can I know me
When I'm non existent?
Wait......now I know why.
I'm different notions and moods.
I have no form
Because it's extinct
everywhere else.
I have no aroma
Because it's exclusive and secret.
I'm colourless
Because my shade's vibrant.
I can change but be the same.
I can switch and still remain.
A thing but not a thing.
I'm a drop of rain
With no taste, colour, shape.
Falling, falling, falling effortlessly.
I may be one thing
While being many too.
Once I make my mark
Everything around me changes.
Comparability to others
Makes adaptability to conformity.
Trending, complying, obeying
Disputing my being as sickening.
Everyone has one identity
Being me makes it hard
To find a group for unity
When I'm so stuck in a hole
Entrapped in my individuality.
My existence isn't exactly average.
Average being common.
I wasn't made to be common
I was made to be diverse.
I have no belonging
in any group or state.
I'm a story with no genre
A meal with no recipe.
My whole self can't be place
With the other selves.
It would not fit in.
It's easier being the same
But sameness creates boredom.
Being ordinary is not optional
Being extraordinary is magnificent.
I recognise change
As being a part of me.
I feel it, I accept it.
I want to be who I am.
While I find my path,
I understand
Entity isn't enough
Plentiful is who I really am.
As I embark my path
To absolute awesomeness
I realise that I am real.
I'm shifting shades
Shifting as I gladly move
Through the phases of my life.
YOU ARE READING
Naked
Poetry"The truth is better scripted than hidden!" This is a collection of poems that I wrote in my youth inspired by the many emotions and phenomenon entrenched in my thoughts. My vision is to inspire, enlighten and empower.
