A/N: For this, we had to look at a set of poems and try to write in the mode of one of the poems. Since you don't know what those poems are, I guess you'll just have to read this and assume that I got it right. Because of course I got it right. I'm just good like that.

Journal 27–Poem in the 'mode' of another poem

I wonder what people think of me.

I mean, I'm nice,


Not too quirky, quiet.

Wait, quiet? Sorry, hell no.

Definitely the wrong word for me,

well sometimes. But am I too

thoughtful for some people?

Or am I just too downright


for some people to handle?

I mean I know that I'm a bit wacky

on occasion, but that's me.

I'm weird, normal, loud, quiet,

fun, boring, reckless, and thoughtful

all that the same time!


How can one person be all this at once?

Who knows.

It's the grand scheme of things,

not knowing. You know?

I don't know why

I am the way I am,

I was just made this way.

I was made for people to

love and hate,

be happy for and be jealous of,

help out and put down.


Maybe someday I will change,

become someone that gets the

same treatment

from everyone I meet.

But that day will be sad.

I will lose my

oxymoronic nature.


But this won't happen.

My differing natures

will not allow it. I know it.

My quirks will stay with me til I die,

and my friends and family

will love me for every single one of them.

I hope.

Because those quirks and differing natures

all make me who I am.

And screw all those people who can't handle me.

The real me.

The me that comes out every day when

I'm with people I love,

with people I cherish,

with people I hold dear.

And that's what matters in the end.