She sits in the corner with her 200 degree coffee
and a book in hand.
Biting her lip as the crowd passes by.
She’s ordinary.
She’s like no other.
She’s cliché.
She’s the most original person you will ever meet.
He walks past her, but doesn’t see her smile.
She fights back tears wondering why he’s so oblivious.
About to explode,
Yet totally calm.
Insecure with herself,
But appearing otherwise to the world.
She surrounds herself among creativity,
But feels like a frail shadow in comparison.
Has aspiration to be great,
But fears not having a drive to meet it.
Stubborn as a pit bull,
Yet compliant as they come.
She has moments of genius,
but then is as ditzy as only a teenager can be.
Blends in.
But at the same time, stand out.
Young.
But feels like she’s lived a hundred years.
She wants to believe that she’s not a lock without a key.
Hopes and dreams.
Cries and tears apart her being.
A wreck.
A beauty.
A piece of work.
She sits in the corner with her 200 degree coffee
and a book in hand.
Biting her lip as the crowd passes by.
She’s ordinary.
She’s like no other.
She’s cliché.
She’s the most original person you will ever meet.
1 comment:
Wow, and you ask me to write you one of yourself, when frankly dear you just portrayed it quite perfectly. How could I compare?
Although...
this just means you're going to hate your christmas present...
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