Not What We Are, But What We Could Be

A stand up poem i wrote

She was different

She wasn’t built to fit through

The crevices they cut

And started calling social standards

Her personality was too big

Too loud

To be confined in one place

 

Too much oomph

Too much life

Too many yesses when she was told to say no

Too many questions when she was told not to ask

Too many stars in her eyes

She held her head up too high

 

So they all tried to cut her

To smooth down her edges

To file away the sharpness of her tongue

To contain her fire

To keep her from being young

 

Tried to tell her to fit in

As though she was a piece of a puzzle

A part of a game

A pencil which wasn’t sharp enough

But too sharp to be tamed

 

But she was not heavy enough to be lead

And not light enough to be wood

She was an engine

But not the little engine that could

She was a storm

A storm whose winds could not be contained

Could not be slowed

When it was winter she burned

And in summers she snowed

 

She defied laws of gravity

When so many things

Did their best to pull her down

She refused to sink

And flew higher than anyone

Ever imagined she could

Ever imagined she would

 

Her edges stayed sharp

Her sparkle still shone

But when she looked in the mirror

Her self-love was gone

 

When it was late she would wonder

How much rope it would take

To show all the people

Her pain wasn’t fake

 

Even then she knew

That no one would listen

No one would care

No one would try to fix

Something they already thought

To be broken

You can’t stitch together a person

There is no such thing as patchwork people

But she had a patchwork personality

Preached praises of people

Who were wonderful

Beautiful

Everything she was

But never herself

 

Never her affection

Her ambition

Not one thing she’d achieved

Not only that but in addition

 

She’d let them cut her wings

Let them force her in a cage

They stole her song bird voice

And she fell

Not only from her place in the sky

But fell silent

 

She slotted into her allocated place

On the outskirts of society

On the outskirts of everyone’s mind

 

She went from being the kind of person

Who made us understand why storms

Were named after people

 

To being the kind of person

Who reminded us why people

Were named after flowers

 

 

Because although she was beautiful

She was no longer strong

No longer different

No longer what she’d always wanted to be

She wasn’t herself

 

She would reach out to catch stars

And ended up with only handfuls of cuts and blisters

She would pull herself up to her full height

Only to find someone’s hand on her shoulders

Pushing her back down

Until her knees hit the ground

Telling her not to stand up

Not to stand out

 

And for a while she obeyed

Until she found that hand was no longer

Strong enough to push her down

That falling stars could not be caught

And to hold a star in your palm

You must burn just as bright as they do

If not brighter

 

She found they had not cut her wings

Only tied them

Not taken away her sparkle, just dulled it

But she could still outshine them

They might have been high

But she could still outfly them

Because the weight she once bore on her shoulders

Was gone

 

She was not weird

Not an outcast

But rather an example

Not the reality of society

But rather a sample

Of what our world could be like

If our people weren’t in chains

If we weren't afraid to change 

If we stood side by side to see that

No we aren’t the same

 

 

Reviews

[Karter Vaugn]

You wrote the words Ive been looking for, for so long now. so touching, so painful, so inspiring. Thankyou

[Abhishekizy]

I heard this quote somewhere - Hey princess, keep your head held high, your tiara is falling"

This is a inspiring. keep writing!