I used to draw up maps,
Wonderfully sketched directions
That pinpointed possible pathways
I could take to reach the sparkling locations
Of clarity and spectacular classifications.
I used to fit my shoulders into
The contours of the ends of spectrums
That dictated the stereotypes of who
And what a character should have. And
I regret trying so hard because
There is nothing wrong in breaking the mould
And letting go to the force
That carries us all along to the sound of music
And freedom and emotions and wishes.
I think I feared becoming a contradiction
And a copycat but fishes
Swim around in school and they don't have the problem
Of fitting in and striking a balance
And partly, I think they just don't care
So that is the shocking difference.
I've come to see this opposing-stereotype-issue
That fit into the categories of statements and soul-radios.
I think there is as big as an elephant
That lie between the two kinds of playdoh
That we use to shape ourselves. Being different
Is not just for the sake of rebelling because it's cool
To be out-of-this-world, successfully standing out amongst
Our very own sex. Only a fool
Would try to mix different ends into a bowl
That doesn't complement the harmony
Of simply existing as a round character,
A square edge that is filed into a symphony
That only you can hear. There is no
Competition, no proposition
Of being special in this world. There is just being you,
Just the way you are
And that is the true speculation.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for the Sad and Weary
PoetryThis is my third book of poems and to be really honest, I'm thankful that I had even been able to finish the last two books. I feel like I'm a completely different person from the first book of poems I had started and that's okay with me. Maybe this...