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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1573911-Your-Heartless-Words-Hurt
by Julia
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Writing · #1573911
A poem leaning more towards a slampoetry style.
Who are you?

I am a cynic.
I thrive off of contradictions.
I play hide-and-seek with other people’s happiness.
I am composed of the same elements as those around me.
I am disposable. But my mind is indispensible.          
Laugh and I’ll carve your heart out
Watch me and I’ll eat it out of a bowl composed of pure sarcasm.

I am an optimist.
I look for that one lucky penny in a pile of rocks.
I eat sunshine and shit rainbows.
I am the soul searcher. The gift finder.
The seeker of humanity.
I am called ignorant.
But I call myself above the influence.

I am a jock.
I am stupid and arrogant
I have an ego the size of Mount Rushmore
I feed off of the blood of my rivals
Talking is for pussies
I speak in muscle weight and breathe in Gatorade.

I am an artist.
I am strange and intolerable.
I am a depressed being and should be ignored.
My mind is far too strange to journey into in good company.
I breathe feelings and speak in dead languages.
I am both the savior and the leper.

I am a liberal.
I am a tree-hugging, gay orgy participant
I’m not a murderer
But since I’m pro-choice, I am apparently a baby-killer.
My stomach breeds ideas and I puke them out with valor

I am a conservative.
I enjoy shooting innocent animals from helicopters.
Without my gun I am like a runner without legs.
I am filthy rich and get high off of war
My life consists of pissing out complaints about the taxes I can afford to pay.

I am a realist
I know my limits.
I lost faith in humanity. But I have faith in myself.
Don’t tell me life is a picnic. Don’t tell me life is living hell.
I may be made of the same matter as you.
But matter cannot be created nor destroyed.

So which one are you?
Is this what we really are?
Is this who you want to be?

We are what society tells us.
We are defined by a series of stereotypes.
I am labeled, numbered, and color-coded
In a fashion derived from the giant obsessive compulsive disorder
That plagues America.
If the universe is a jungle
Then I am the lion and society is my cage.
Cynicism can’t crush my faith.
But those optimistic words can’t bring it back either.

So take a breath and clear your mind.
Because this current feeling of enlightenment will soon be leaving
The minute you leave your room
You’ll be back to where you started
Back to labels.
Back to brand names.
Back to colors.
Back to races.
Back to this.
And back to that.

Well guess what?
I don’t want to go back.
I want to be able to drive without knowing where I’m going
I want the feeling of freedom and liberation to pulsate through my veins 24/7
I want to eat my heart and drink my feelings
And forget who people tell me I am and just find out for myself.
Because God got one thing right:
I AM WHO AM.
© Copyright 2009 Julia (xxdaytripper at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1573911-Your-Heartless-Words-Hurt