A menagerie of quirks
Piled eclectically—
One atop another,
And out of these
I’ve stitched myself a life.
I am the first three lines
Of a million books
I got too into my daydreams to read—
At least twenty barren romances
Over a two month period,
Not wishing myself upon you
Because it’s the time to live my life
For me to love me
And it
And the beauty of nature;
I am a concept floating around in a body
That I spend time decorating
Like it’s a first apartment.
I am lipstick;
I am a grand total of three facial expressions…
And giggling at my own curse words,
And getting smashed just to
Watch an art film on my birthday
Because it makes me happier than going out;
I am my faults
And my successes,
And I realize that no matter the circumstances,
I’ll eventually pick myself up
And live on happily—
Making art from broken things.