What I See

Eyes

Sapphire circles

Piercing stunning captivating 

An open gateway to your soul 

Windows

Παράλειψη σχεδιασμού

Silver drops of dew splash down

Personal perceptions rule what I see

An immortal moon clutched in my hands

Blindly I sail through an ambiguous sea

Stars were invented by mechanical men

Are memories any more real than dreams?

Presently, nothing's more real than right now

But what we know now is not what it seems

The Observation

I know it's not very polite,
But I stared at you as you walked by
Your head hung low with hollow eyes

I noticed--

As you walked you dropped your tears
They glistened on the cobble stones
Breadcrumbs to a broken heart

I noticed.

The Assigment

The Assignment is to write an essay about yourself.

I have to write a poem about myself? Easy. Who knows me better than me?

Let's see here....

There was a butterfly newly broken from the cocoon.

A butterfly? Seriously? How old am I, seven? Pull it together. I can do this, it will be easy.

The lion's mane had a wild, fierce beauty that petrified and relieved.

"That petrified and relieved." What the hell am I even talking about now? I'm just going to stay away from animals in this poem...

Come on, think, think!

Nobody knew that the doll was the forgotten dreamer, the past-tense friend.

Wow, why don't I just slit my wrists open and bleed on the paper, that would be just as emo as that line.

Why can't I think?? It's just a poem about me, why is this proving so difficult?

Every cascading  crescendo corresponds to the cleverly crystallized concept.

I don't even have any idea what that begins to mean.... I should probably stay away from the alliteration as well. No animals, no alliteration, I can do this. Right?

You have uneven lumps in the wrong place. Your too-small-eyes make your poorly-placed makeup even worse.

Okay so looking into a mirror isn't helping the creative process. Side note: Fix eyeshadow when I am done with this poem. Back to the poem. Focus. Just add some poetic words and call it good.

Her eyes were the ever-changing-grey that perceived everything in super color. Her heart-on-fire shot sparks to the night stars.

This is just getting worse and worse. I give up. I'm just keeping it simple. I have no more energy to try.

I'll just do it like this...

I am Samara. 
I'm the girl with crazy-curly hair that is sometimes too cautious.
I eat when I'm bored and have occasional insomnia.
My face smiles more than my heart does and I try really hard to be happy.
I'm nothing too special, but I'm better than I think. I really am.
Sometimes I want to give up but I never do. Because I'm a fighter.
I try to work out enough and I go to bed really early sometimes.
I have really bony fingers and a very kind heart.
I am Samara.