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?
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
from everyone I meet.
But that day will be sad.
I will lose my
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.
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.