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Human Kaleidoscope

How overcoming our experiences shapes the beautiful colors of our unique personalities.

By Shelby RiderPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
7
Photo of and by the author: Shelby Rider

When it comes to the human race,

Uniqueness is commonplace.

Each of us far from a clone,

We enter into the world all alone.

.

My ancestors gave me only a trace-

The genetic makeup that paints my face.

From many a shaded skin tone,

A dark rouge across my cheekbone.

.

Their palettes contour our features,

Reproducing us: new creatures.

.

Our DNA is more than cosmetic aesthetic.

Our differences are truly magnetic, poetic.

It’s impossible for us to be the same,

Inside our multicolored picture frame.

.

Whatever your complexion,

It should be regarded with affection.

Whether you are ebony or alabaster,

our mothers made us each a mask of plaster.

.

Mine came with hair that was blonde

And cerulean eyes to correspond.

Shining Sky blue with a silver lining,

Defining eyes destined for designing.

.

Optimism formed from a chemical bond.

Seeing the world, but then looking beyond.

.

We each have our own chroma,

And our own sweet-smelling aroma.

We were baked with convection;

Special traits in each selection.

.

But on closer inspection,

We all start out as perfection.

Headed in the same direction,

Warranting the same amount of protection.

.

And despite our genetic predisposition,

We all follow the same expedition.

.

Our physician, magician

Starts the ignition, emission.

The world gives us admission,

All part of the same coalition.

.

Not yet with inhibition,

A brand new composition,

Left in this position.

All birth is repetition.

.

We are made of dyes,

And sung lullabies.

From each eye we cry,

To magnify and amplify

Our need to be pacified.

.

And there we lie.

Staring up at the sky,

Wondering why

Things have gone awry.

We try to comply.

There’s no outcry,

And the hours go by.

Still no reply.

They justify and falsify

And I just sigh.

How can I modify and beautify

Demystify, become a butterfly?

.

It is our experiences that form us,

and make our differences enormous.

.

Bisou, bisou; Get a clue.

Amongst all the hullabaloo, I can say me too-

Just an ingenue. Despite what I rue,

My colors stay true.

.

Does my blood run red or blue?

Or an ultraviolet hue?

.

I have a hole in my heart,

But that’s not the worst part:

.

It’s grown through loss and trauma.

I need it to stop-pause, comma

.

Ready to escape from this prism,

In fear of embolism.

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What I’ve endured is abuse,

And sometimes I feel chartreuse.

But I don’t use it as an excuse,

For my artwork it helped me produce.

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I’ve racked up emotional debt,

But do not fret, I’ll escape this threat.

Break out in a cold hard sweat,

Pull my hair back in a barrette.

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You can see my silhouette.

I’m no one’s marionette.

Pretend I'm not upset.

Is this real life or just a vignette?

.

I decide to keep playing the cassette

To see what’s coming yet.

For my painting’s still wet,

And I have a color filled mindset.

.

I rarely think in black and white.

My dreams are big, so hold on tight.

.

And the way I differ from the masses:

I choose to see the world through rose colored glasses.

.

And not just how my cones and rods change how I see the colors around me,

but in how my experiences reshape my reality.

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We often find ourselves in a quagmire.

The feeling of drowning in a sea of sapphire;

The burning that sets our lungs afire.

But I use the pain to inspire

.

The art that I make.

Born out of heartache.

Feelings that are hard to shake,

Piled on like a layer cake.

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At risk of having a heart attack,

I live every moment as if it’s Kodak.

Here, take a copy of my almanac,

Read about my ability to bounce back.

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I draw stories in charcoal.

My emotions have their own self-control.

I sit high atop the emotional totem pole,

My positivity is on cruise control.

.

My chakra is teeming with citrine,

My plate full of optimistic cuisine.

I’m not afraid of challenges unseen,

I’ve been through quarantine and had my vaccine.

.

I’ve grown like vines of wisteria,

Trying to meet my own criteria.

.

And the sun shines bright in goldenrod,

Burning hues remind me how I have clawed

My way out of this facade,

To someone that I can applaud.

Sometimes flawed, but never a fraud.

You may say slightly odd-I’ll just smile and nod.

.

I’m optimistic in how I give my love out,

Expecting I may have to go without.

Because I know the hole can’t be filled,

But the chambers of my heart I can rebuild.

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So I won’t stop trying,

Even when empathy feels outlying.

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We’re in need of a Renaissance-

One that elicits a positive response.

No more of this nonchalance.

My optimism shines like a wall sconce.

.

Everyone just trying to cope,

Each human kaleidoscope.

As we cross life’s tightrope

Holding onto hope, the familiar trope.

.

But I will choose to be great.

I’ve sealed my fate.

Living life without hate,

I will always create

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A room to motivate.

And illustrate, innovate, collaborate.

If we learn to communicate,

Compassion we might radiate.

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Because we are high value pastel,

So let’s go ‘round the Carousel.

Life’s not to dwell, mademoiselle.

Happiness should not be a hard sell.

.

We are born different, yet the same.

Thrust into this endless game.

But it’s time to claim

The things you overcame,

.

Because they made you,

you.

.

And why not celebrate?

You faced your fate

And developed a trait

We can all appreciate.

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So it’s you that I nominate,

To participate when we congregate.

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You just have to find where your unique puzzle piece will go,

Because we are each a different color of the same rainbow.

slam poetry
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About the Creator

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