Misfit

A Poem About the Self

Misfit

I am the misfit with a name that I never grew into. Hands are made tough for furniture building. Hair made thick to protect my head from every fall I take. I am that clumsy, too much of a klutz for my own good. Legs made strong for walking miles and carrying baggage that doesn’t have my name on it. No matter how hard I tried my fingers refuse to let go. Eyes wide to watch what I must protect. Which isn’t much since my heart is a one bedroom apartment. But my mind has guest rooms with balconies and a Queen size mattress with a dresser underneath it. A strange apartment complex where each tenant has an unusual hobby that could get them kicked out. But their entertaining, so I keep them. They are my misfit personalities. A hodgepodge of what I want to be and want others expect me to be.

inspirational
Queen Jordan
Queen Jordan
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