You may think I have it together,
but I’m as messed up as everyone else.
I exude confidence and classiness,
then speak insecurely in the next breath.
I’d rather write about than talk about it.
I come alive through the words of my poems.
My personality is reticent.
My temper, immediate.
But I’m learning to calm my storms.
I travel roads that are latent.
I know who I’m called to be,
even if the woman in the mirror
isn’t always who I want to see.
I have an angel on my back.
She holds close a deadly weapon.
When people come into my presence,
they often have the wrong perception.
They think I have it all together,
but I’m as messed up as everyone else.
Sometimes I feel like Nefertiti
brawling a 12 year old version of herself.
I’m traditional and God-fearing,
though I embrace my sensual side
I think nakedness and sexuality
is a very spiritual part of life.
I like primroses and pit bulls,
and watching raindrops from indoors.
Instead of sitting on my sofa
I’d rather slumber in the middle of a floor.
I dance in the darkness
and find solace in being alone.
But I hate being lonely,
and pray for real love of my own.
I could care less if my clothes match.
They don’t reflect the depth of my heart.
I have trouble keeping my focus.
I often surrender before I even start.
You may think I have it together,
but I’m as messed up as everyone else.
Maybe one day, I’ll know
definiteness.
