Lucky

Lucky
Words fall from my mouth
Regurgitated
An imitation of a real person
I get by by mimicking what I see in others
Lucky, some would say
That I am able to pass for what I am not
A competent illusion
Scraping on past by the skin of my teeth
It’s no wonder I hate poems, I think
Metaphors make no sense and
Between the lines goes over my head and
Just this once, I think
The words fail me again and again
Poems, they shatter my skull
A brain that cannot compute
A brain that cannot understand why
Why must the true meaning always be so obscured?
Why can’t you just be straightforward with me?
If you’re going to give me a gift
Why must you seal it with pretty words and fleeting metaphors?
In all these verses, rhymes, and lyrics
I only hear that which I cannot understand
And I am left with an unfinished work of art
I have to wonder how other people see it
Do the most potent words ignite fireworks in your mind
And firecrackers in your heart?
Does it paint the most exquisite picture?
Does it seem like art to you?
Not to me
Not to me, do the words inspire passion or excitement
Or revelation of a hidden meaning
My teachers said poems were for everyone
I never thought that was true
Title, Paraphrase, Connotation, Attitude, Shifts, Title, Theme
Must a poem be all that?
But even in the inaccessible English class analogies
I can write even poems in my own way
And that is what I’m lucky to see


Anderson High School

10