Scribbles

I was made of paper skin, blank and without plans

In pre-school all the little kids ran at me holding crayons

They scribbled on my stark white skin, concealing who I am

I made it out so colorful yet darkened deep within

The gaps of all those squiggles were covered up with paint

By peers who tried to tell me exactly who I ain't

I stumbled into college with my paper skin a smear

They tore my halves and burned my ends, solidifying fear

I arrived in my adulthood with a scrap that held my name

A treasured piece of knowledge but I didn't feel the same

When I collapse and death consumes the small hope that's inside

They will read my eulogy, unaware that others lied

Author's Note

I was conflicted on using the word "ain't". I ultimately decided it was necessary for the poem as a whole and so I left it in there.

Thanks for reading.

Reviews

[Gleb Zavlanov]

A very, very interesting perspective! The way you were able to express a complex reality in such a simple, unique way is completely superb!

[Adam Crate]

Thank you for the positive review!

[Sami Khalil]

A splendid read and write...Thank you for penning...:)

[Adam Crate]

Thanks, I appreciate it.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome...:)

[Zach]

The sad truth of life, and well captured. You can try as you might to be who you are, but a part of you will always be what others see you as.

[Adam Crate]

Thanks for the review.