I’m the kind of girl

Who is quiet in large groups or around

people I don’t know; you only see the real

me if we’re close. I smile and laugh a lot

especially at the most inappropriate times.

   I’m a hopeless romantic.

I trip over air, up stairs and over 

people’s feet. I am the hardest person to

offend, but it is all too easy to make me

feel horrible. I hate telling people about

my problems; they don’t need

      to worry about me.

I’m the one who listens to other people’s 

problems. I believe people should not be

judged before one takes the time to get to

   know them, yet I am guilty of doing

        that exact thing.

I love to think rather than talk.

I’m awkward, clumsy, shy, starnge….

  but this is me. Take it or leave it.

No Title

You can write for hours on hours,

Of all the things that you wish you could be,

But the truth of the matter is simple,

People are not poetry,

And I know that you wish you weren’t awkward,

That sweet words could roll right off your tongue,

But your time here’s too short just to worry,

How each single sentence is strung,

It’s okay to be rough round the edges,

To be bruised up and broken and scarred,

But it’s not okay to let people tell you,

That it’s a reason to change who you are,

You hair doesn’t always sit neatly,

The way a poem sits so neatly in lines,

And sometimes you might feel like a word,

That nobody has learnt to define,

You might not be a star that lights darkness,

Or a bird that can teach us to soar,

But it’s okay, because you are too complex,

To be crammed into one metaphor,

It’s okay not to know what you’re doing,

Since your feelings don’t have to all rhyme

Though a poem once complete is eternal,

You have the freedom to change over time,

You’re much more than can ever be written,

There is no title to say, “This is Me”,

You can’t be trapped in the lines of a notebook,

Because people are not poetry.