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,

right?

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

insane

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.