outside (a poem)

Updated: Feb 2

why did kid me never plant sunflowers outside my window?

all i know:

all i’ve got is some seeds set on the sill,

potential still


and an insatiable longing for even more.

and an explosion of dissonant ideas

splattering on the walls, hiding the floor

with spread-out sparkles and spray paint

send a messy signal to the undecided soul.

for the room, to rearrange

illustrates an addiction to change.

the same old same old is consistently plain,

& who ever really stuck with the plan?

simplicity? tried it, but creativity

demanded action, relentlessly emanated attraction.

'cause beige walls and neutral minimalism calls

like a societal Sirin singing sexy songs of acceptance,

but harlequin peace in war resonate more at core,

and fitting in was always a chore

i was never (nor will ever be) fit for.

for everything that was and is,

all that exists in the story

before & in between

work together

& our childhoods draw lines which we

constantly color around and over, never within.

transition & tradition aren’t the same.

porcine & perfect aren’t me.

and just as I Am meant to be, i am.


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