Curiousity Within the Universe

An imperfect poem that reflects the beautiful imperfection from within, that sometimes Rhymes and sometimes is freely versed.

I don’t want to be a genius- I just want to feel smart.

I don’t want to be the strongest and Brawniest- I just want to be loved for my strength.

I don’t want to be the prettiest one in the room- I just want my inner beauty to be seen.

I don’t want to be the most attractive- I just want to take care of my well-being.

I don’t need to smash toes to show myself I am a rebellious soul,

Not to express repressed rage, to retaliate, or to overthrow.

To instead be my raw, unadulterated, unapologetic self without the fear,

And to be harmonious with those who are being their own real selves.

Rebellion doesn’t have to be aggressive, brutal and repressive.

Rebellion is the mother who births growth.

I once upon a whisper, fell in love with infatuation,

and changed myself to who she wanted me to be.

 I indulged her with my heart, and my soul.

She entertained my fantasy of who she was, and I entertained her fantasy of me.

I played the guitar, I sang, I created beautifully flawed and imperfect art.

and with time, feeling reduced to perfection and entertainment, she broke my heart.

I wrote her stories, and became her escape from reality, 

Her honey bear, her singing Aphroditus, her own sunflower to possess.

And when she left, she took the season of summer with her.

I died as a storyteller, a poet, and a writer of thoughtful words.

The autumn scared me, the season of change.

 But she was just reflecting my dream-like state, 

the dream that it will always be dry and never rain,

And the next summer I realized, no summer is ever exactly the same.

A subtle echo in the dense forest, without a name.

The transitional season of change, change that left me soft, quiet, translucent,

 nearly invisible.

I became like glass.

Apologetic for every finger I cut for being my own true self.

My truth became a dream, my life became a chase…

 for the ever-elusive carrot on a stick, I fell into place.

What’s more is fear of asking, even for a minor change.

The questions within me spinning in my head, from then on I could not sleep.

I dreamt of a quiet life in the day, in the house of a heartily loud family,

half the night I was still awake.

And now that I’ve had time alone, 

on my own,

and time to live simply. 

I came to an awakening,

I want to be LOUD! 

I want to stumble over my own child-like feet and sincerely not caring.

To feel how I feel without ensnaring.

Ensnaring the nearest sympathetic soul for pity.

To instead of constantly fearing, those moments of pure joy;

will not last and just slip through my fingers.

To realize that joy is not meant to linger.

Then feel JOY, and to know it will not last,

And to embrace this moment warmly and affectionately while it is still here.

Like family, like pets, like homes, they won’t always be there, 

it won’t be perfectly the same as it is now, 

ever again in this place that I am right here.

So instead of living in loss, in suffering, I chose to be here.

in calm rebellion, 

not in compliance just to keep the boat from rocking.

Still afloat, I find myself in the stillness and the radical spontaneity of my soul.

Not dying like a weak ember, but bursting into a fierce flame.

That strikes awe to the reality of existence.

To be a beautiful, flawed and honest jewel.

We all are branches that sway different directions, 

and a part of the same tree, the same bow, deeply in our roots.

I want to live willfully, to say no when it is needed.

To remove the dreams that decieve me, carefully being weeded.

To sway, in the direction that bends me.

To allow my past to die.

I desire to be rebirthed.

For death and rebirth are the will of the universe.

I want to live soulfully,

I want to live heartfully,

I want to live mindfully,

I want to feel good in my own skin.

Now tell me, is it so wrong to desire? Even just for a whim?

Author's Note

Ignore the fact it doesn't rhyme or totally sync into rhythm, open to criticism.