This man in a suit
Is so sure of who he is.
His job, his priorities, his abilities.
The person being asked this question though
Cannot figure out who she is,
What she wants,
Or what she’s capable of.
I am an ever changing sack of flesh and blood.
I am a little bit of anger and whole lot of sadness.
I am happiness so profound it makes me sad
to think that it’ll come to an end.
Some days I’m a ball of possibility
Reading, writing, speaking, dancing.
Some days I’m a dormant volcano,
Gloriously destructive in its days,
But now holding a lake of tears on its surface.
Most days I’m just me.
I’m desperately trying to fit into
The conventional definition of a human being.
Sometimes I fail at it
Other times I spend hours trying to
find the perfect definition of normal.
The person being asked this question
Thought up a story, a canvas with
colours akin to those of
the most beautiful sunset her city has ever seen.
But knowing this man
In his business suit,
With his busy busy schedule,
Knowing he did not care about how
her tears were as purple as the sky the day she found out that the kindest people she knew weren’t always kind to themselves,
She mechanically recited the answer she found on her deep dive down the internet wormhole looking for what this man wanted to hire.
A goal oriented
Productivity above all else
And definitely does not cry
When she can’t figure out
Who she is.