I am a sum total.
Every instant of my existence
Has built me from the ground up.
I am no such thing as original.
I am afraid I am ordinary.
-They say you are what you eat.
This much is true.
Food for the soul.
Loves and hates.
Passion and empathy.
-I am such a glutton.
Make no mistake
This sin’s far from deadly.
I want to dive into my subconscious
And ask him a few questions.
Pick his brain so I can understand my own.
Understand every little piece of me.
Every shard of glass in my life’s mosaic.
Gleaming and smiling and sitting pretty.
I strain to break the quality control.
Slam my fist through the mirror.
Setting my own standards.
Seeing around the subjective.
Striving through the superficial.
Discover how to make me
Better than what is expected
-An autodidactic psychological modest narcissist of mind and body.
Achieving perfection through imperfection
And realizing perfection is imperfect itself.
Letting my imagination create my purpose.
Finding my dreams and aspirations through my being.
Blinded by their somber cries.
Take them by the hand and turn them
Into lucid sunlight across my face.
Watching reality as I sculpt
My life with my own two hands.
The power to caress the clay into beauty
Or smash it into the dust of the Earth.
But alas, I am not of my own.
My ideas are not my own.
Merely borrowed thoughts juxtaposed
Into a pastiche of individuality.
My extensions to you
Are what I can call my own.
A handprint on your shadow.
Endeavor to reach out.
Palm your shoulder.
Wrap a finger around your mind.
And put a piece of me in you.
Memory and emotion shall succeed me
And live through you.
-We truly are immortal.