A kid simplified and broken down

Reduced to a microphone in their hand,

The notes that leave their lips.

This child is more than this.

“You are my daughter”

The God

who created the stars 

and the sun 

and the mountains 

and the planes

gazed over it all,

then added me

Cause He looked at a field of ornate roses and lilies,

I'm a poet,

I'm a writer,

I'm a sister.

I'm outrageous,

I'm silly, 

I'm weird.

I'm also not special

I'm not better

or the best

But I want to be.

broke out a pen, not a pencil

i usually use pencils for english homework,

mechanical ones,

teal or purple.

but i guess it's different

with forgotten homework,

either rushed or

completed by chatgpt

The child you reared

The straight-A student

The hard worker, the one that gives

The disorganized, happy, childish teen

The one who cares too much

i blink at the screen.
after all the prompts ive ever read, 
this may be the most outrageous.

i am said to be a writer.
it is true that i think too much
and write too little

I came from mountains.
From the memory of تبدیل,
Of change,
Regurgitated from the depths of what may have been.

Everybody has a thing

Something they're good at

And something they love

It's their thing

Sometimes its sports

Or arts

Or humor

Sometimes it's just being

Loved

I don't have a thing

You ask who I am.

Honestly, I wonder that too.

Sometimes I'm one thing, other times another.

Sometimes I feel like I'm just shattered glass piecing itself back together.

And then breaking again.

Far too often the piles cascade too high

I can't see the top of who I am

even though I chose each object,

each emotion,

and each action.

I can't understand the tip of the iceberg though

If we’re not here, where

would we be? Who would I be

if I wasn’t me?

My existence is not for others

it does not heal the wounded 

my words are costume, foam steel at most.

I exist to live a life that continues the cycle

I'm a mirror of society that has painted