Story of a Kid

i. what am i, what am i? tea, tea, for that would i die -- cup after cup after cup of vanilla chai. the romance of caffeine, the lull of forced time awake; the feeling of falling in the night, when your body starts with a quake. what am i, what am i? books, books, for them would i die. o, to curl in my bed, to have a good cry. here to mask the frustration of a boring life, arthur, his knights, and a good, long, strife. what am i, what am i? loneliness, loneliness, for her would id ie. i've always been told i'm far too shy. sensitive as a mouse, picky as a bird-- who cares to speak if their words won't be heard? ii. what am i, what am i? to that, i answer, many a thing. i am the battered scribe next to the shining king. i am dreaming of all the fish in monterey bay. i am thinking tiredly about the end of may. i am hiding my face in the picture you took. i am a crude laugh and a shrill, "made you look!" i am my favorite mug that always burns my hand. i am the scratched CD of my favorite band. i am turning the corner in tears & hitting my head. i am thinking of ways i could wind up dead. iii. what am i, what am i? why, i'll tell you. my life is made of blue and gray. i am no she, he, or they. i am made of those moments in the wood, when your words will undoubtedly be misunderstood. i am her gifts, her endearing eyelashes, the roll of his shoulders, his tales of car crashes, their quick wit, their excited chatter, the cringe i cringe when asked, "what's the matter?" iv. what am i, what am i? some could argue i don't know. too young, too brash, and definitely too slow. but some could i argue that i do because i know that i am not a 'who'. i try to take moments and grab them ; grip them tight & close to my chest. i pile the memories up and sit on them like my own beautiful bird's nest. i feel only frustration, gratitude, and nothing at all i open my mouth to speak with unconscious gall. v. who am i, who am i? you tell me, please do. chances are i know less than you. you have a name, a life, some cares; you are eager to pay society's fares. vi. so. what of people who are what?