Not
Author: Erin Hanson
You are not your age,
Nor the size of clothes you wear,
You are not a weight,
Or the colour of your hair.
You are not your name,
Or the dimples in your cheeks,
You are all the books you read,
And all the words you speak,
You are your croaky morning voice,
And the smiles you try to hide,
You’re the sweetness in your laughter,
And every tear you’ve cried,
You’re the songs you sing so loudly,
When you know you’re all alone,
You’re the places that you’ve been to,
And the one that you call home,
You’re the things that you believe in,
And the people that you love,
You’re the photos in your bedroom,
And the future you dream of,
You’re made of so much beauty,
But it seems that you forgot,
When you decided that you were defined,
By all the things you’re not.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2017
About this poem:
From my notes to self
Comments (12)
Aren't we all? At times we're everything and nothing at the same time. The contradictions we present is but a ccomplex layers of who we are. Predictable and at the same time unpredictable. Lucid and at the same time turbid.
Inconsistently consistent.
A good read.
From a friend of mine: "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!"
? Hunter S. Thompson