I am...

I am…

People see me as…
I don’t know, what do they see me as?

Perhaps a star, burning brightly, forever
One you only see as a distant dot
Which you sometimes stop to admire
But, really, I’m a quiet fire, which struggles to burn
Not always winning
Hushing to a glowing ember, hidden with grey ash

Perhaps they see me as a musical composition
Perfect, technically, but without that gripping quality
That spirit which makes you desire to play it again, and again
The spirit that inspires more ingenuity
If you knew, I am a symphony of notes that do not match
Some missing, some too high or too low
Harshly discordant but parts composed in beauty
Ringing with passion, tolling with indifference
Am I not human?

Or perhaps, seen as a statue, part of the background
A piece of furniture in life, a feature of the proverbial package
Nothing thought of much, just there, a stereotype
Something that every group does not exist without
But am I? Do you believe that what you see, is the truth?
Inside throbs a whole world, secrets, fantasies, knowledge
Imperfections, insecurity, love, dark places

Possibly, they see a child, a teenager
Needs guidance, is dependant
Probably has all the angst and issues
Thinks of all the typical teenage things
Listens to her elders, that’s why she’s good
Maybe even knows what she wants and where she’s going
In this case, maybe I am
I don’t know really, I simply aim to please
Anyone but myself
I am not pleased easily thus there is equal satisfaction
One way or the other
I long for philosophy, Utopia and Beauty
I stop every day, to admire the scenery
Cranes, trees, doll houses, one like the other
But, different from each other, it seems like everyday,
the same scene, Is different

Or perhaps, you could answer that question
People see me as…?