i was made to break
the mold.

I could say I'm the result of my parents:
I'm organized because they raised me to be,
Intelligent because they gave me those genes,
Short for the same reason- at 4' 10' I'm as tall as I'll ever be.
But I know there's more than just that to make me Me.

I could say the thoughts in my head were influenced by the books I've read,
That my way of thinking is directed by all the words in someone else's head,
And that even though half of these people are dead
They live on with the readers like you and me.
But I know there's another reason my mind thinks as Me.

I could say all the little habits I live every day
Were first watched when I saw someone else do them that way.
I saw my mother’s reserved behaviors and made them my own,
I watched Nickelodeon and learned how to crack a joke,
And all my memories as I acted upon these things could very well be what made me Me.
But I know I'm the only person who truly acts like me.

I know that genes made up my body,
But do genes decide how I cut my hair?
Or chose the color I paint the finger nails my body grows,
Decide what clothes my body will wear?

I know books influence my way of thinking,
But who decided which books I want to read?
Wasn’t that Me?

I know there's not a habit in this world for me to pick up that wasn't someone else's first,
But when I saw someone bite their nails I didn't bite mine too.
Instead I paced around my room, not even knowing where I got it from.
No one chooses my habits any more than my clothes or my books.


I chose those things because I liked them.
Because I wanted to.
I chose the things that make me.
So then if you asked me, "Why are you, you?"
I'd say, "Because I want to be."

It's alienation across the nation.


End of the break
the whistle's blowing
The sailors going only a short way
to heavens
Subterranean souls, yet
extraterrestrial minds
(I want to have a magnificent, celestial time)
Someone is dead
True, someone might be
curled in dread, somewhere
But the staff chooses not to
voice these concerns
to their guests

They-are-all
transported
to a place where their veins
don't show up blue
under that black light, yellow
dans-le-ciel
It's a dalliance for souls
(They are all lost.)
A denouement for souls
(How much does it cost?)

Better question,
who sends them here
(Every zephyr is cold)
who sends them here
to die and behold?
If I had a friend
they would ask,
"Why so alone?"
Because I move with the

Tintinnabulation across the nation.
People saying the most
cringe-worthy---
Like the nation
I fear I have become
an *imbrication
repeating myself in every
application
Working on that steamboat
the-band-wagon
isn't as good as it gets
Saccharine, summery lake
Do we, perhaps, need to escape?

And, perhaps, we can.

Dominated as we are
by Society, who is crying in need
Believes we must be a
panoply!

I, in a field amongst my peers;
We are so similar
Almost all the same-
We grow together
From the soil beneath
Our stems, our roots
Combining, clustering,
We are all connected.
     I feel like I am different though,
     I have my own stem
     My own hue of pink
     My own pretty petals
     My own green leaves
     My own movement
     My own form of life.
I realize there are others
That look like me,
That grow like me,
That sway in the wind as I do.
     But I also know that
     I am my own flower-
     I am not like the rest-
     I am an individual.
This field of wildflowers,
Filled with stems and petals
That may seem the same-
Yet so exceptionally different,
Is simply a community.
What makes this vast meadow
So whole and complete,
Is every distinct blossom
Coming together-
Creating a natural
Convergence of unique,
Beautiful, living beings.

POO!

SOME OF US DO BIG ONES, OTHERS MAY DO DROPPINGS, SOME OF US DO QUIET ONES, OTHERS DO LOUD PLOPPINGS. SOME OF US DO FRAGRANCE FREE, AND OTHERS MAY CAUSE A STENCH, SOME OF US HAVE IT SIMPLY SLIDE OUT, OTHERS FEEL LIKE THEY MUST BENCH.

POO.

Awoken from a dream that never ends, aware of the lies that disguise the worth of mortal lives. Taught to mimic what's seen without ever knowing what it means, I watch the masses shift between souls with free will, and machines with a set of programmed commands.
Robots on a conveyer belt, the world is spinning we are all trying to hold on to our sanity. Humanity individuality, what makes us different is slipping this constant need to be different. Is what makes us the same.