am

i am, in most contexts,

a sliver of human,

a spec of light in a

never-ending sky.

i am, at times,

a locked box of emotion,

for fear, for fear,

and silent as a void.

i am, when i'm lonely,

wilted and jaded and

angry at the world

for leaving me in this life.

i am, at night,

a whirring, ticking time-bomb

of a brain, clacking away

thoughts like a broken typewriter.

i am, while i'm alone,

shamefully whimsical,

grotesquely optimistic,

satisfyingly sour.

i am, around many,

breezily agreeable and

excellently pleasant,

an orderly façade.

i am, with few,

excruciatingly lovely,

bubbling with wonder,

spilling words i never ever say.

i am, at my best,

a mere human being,

a shimmer of light in a

vibrant and boundless sky.