I am, human.
Made of flesh and bones,
With an intelligent mind to create and build.
I could, be a poet, or a writer.
Creating worlds through the art of ink on parchment.
I have, been on adventures,
Filled with wonder and excitement.
Rainbows flood my veins,
And rivers flow in my heart.
Stars exist in my mind,
And petals cover my skin.
Passion drives my soul,
And ideas plague my thoughts.
I am a philosopher,
But most importantly, I am pathetic.
I do not possess the skills that complement my ideas.
Fires suffocate within me,
And not even rain bothers to fall.
I am a fossil.
With the weight of a thousand years pressing against me,
Crush me to dust,
Into fine powder.
Use my bones to kindle your flames.
I am the scum,
Beneath your ship of crystal palaces.
Chewing gum to you,
I am disgusting.
I am fire and fighter.
My emotions are a hurricane,
And I am the eye.
Can you, even, smile?
To you I am nothing,
Or everything the world needs.
Stop saying this place was made for me,
If you will not let me have it.
What is left of me but this?
All the things I couldn't be.
Purpose is the illusion of the free,
(And the free do not exist.)