I am weird

I’m weird
But I’m here
I’m weird
And though people may laugh
When I’m not weird
I tend to steer
Off the path
I’m weird
And though I’m not like everybody else
When I’m not weird
I’m someone else
Off the path
Somewhere else
And on this path
This path of my weirdness
This path of my write mess
I met a man.
He studied math.
This man I met told me
What he has I lack.
This man warned me of my pursuits.
“Math has money, writing has no use.”
I listened for a bit.
And in that bit
He could tell me just how many
Bytes would fit inside
The building in which we sit.
He could tell me just how many
Minutes I waste writing with wit
In a poem about it.
He could tell me all the facts
Facts
Numbers
Figures
Measurements
Rapid fire
Regurgitation
And as he was spewing,
Just as any poet would be doing
This poem here
About my being weird
Began, in my head, brewing
“And that is why you are less.”
Were
The
Final
Words
That
Followed
After
Me
In
Dying
Echoes
As I traveled on in my weirdness

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4 Comments

  1. I like the persona in the poem, especially his weirdness and honesty. I also think you do line breaks well. For me the poem gets most interesting about half way down with the line “I met a man,” where you begin a narrative. And at the same time the last part of the poem plays around with end rhymes in interesting ways.

    Liked by 1 person

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