Corey, Casey, Mary, they all smell like imposters when strangers try to pronounce my name.
But my name, Carey Beth, smells like Niagara Falls and an Irish farm.
My names tastes like homemade chocolate chip cookies warm, fuzzy and sweet.
My name sounds like a rushing wave of mystery and winter.
My name feels like a warm blanket wrapping around you and then dropping you in the deep, cold ocean.
My name looks turquoise and bright, shining with possibility.
I am a perfect day interrupted by a sloppy, eager, happy, awkward mess.
When I cry I am a raging hurricane
When I laugh I sound like a thunderstorm
I am the loudest person in the room
I like myself
I’m worth a lot
And you can’t tell me that I’m not
Because you can’t see inside of me