poetry, Thoughts, Who I am

GLARE

I grew up to become a jewl.

A green iridescent jewl.

Papa said to me,

Shine, kid, shine

And do it as much as you can.

But, let me tell you,

I found it hard,

Whoever was around,

Would wonder who was I

And then leave the place as bright.

Then, I polished my features,

More than any other creature.

I scrubbed and rinsed,

Washed my framework, my whole physique.

But nothing seemed to make the trick,

Sweat and tears left me bleak.

Ask for help, Mama would say

And still not worked, not one request.

I thought it was all time and fortune

Turned deep inside, asked my self-surgeon

What’s the problem with my costume?

Why it won’t shine,

It creates distortion?

She replied, there is nothing to be done,

You need to find a place where to hide.

You will never be what others wished for.

 Better take your leave and change the plea.

So I did as my guts told,

One more time I washed up my toes.

I dressed in black and cut my hair short,

I looked in the mirror and rehearsed my new flow.

So now the fresh pathway awaits.

My new pair of stocks fit great.

The air rises and plays fair.

The moon sparkles and makes my skin flare.

Finally, I glare.

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