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The Life of an Infp

I’m just a body,
But if you cut me open you’d see
The complex entanglement of veins and thoughts,
Colors smeared and mixed around like paint.
My heart pulsing and bleeding acidic feelings,
That burn and melt everything away,
Until they are entirely felt and taken care of properly.

 

In my head you would see
My blossoming brain, like a flower,
Continually morphing and growing.
You’d feel stormy gales of ideas,
See how they blow around,
Occasionally bringing in new petals that join the family.

 

You’d notice that my brain-stem runs all the way down,
Connecting inseparably to my heart.
Some click their tongues at the interdependence,
But some understand,
Understand that if I were to unplug one from the other,
They would wilt and wither,
Dying along with who I am.

 

Behind my eyes would be dams,
Built by me over the years,
Made of forged strength and poignant memories,
In order to block the unwarranted tears that would otherwise
Flow freely and involuntarily,
Only rarely welcomed.

 

For inside myself I have a home,
A home only few are allowed to see.
I cut away my skin and expose my rainbow of tendons,
For many, the hues are too bright,
And they would turn away, unappreciative,
Unable to grasp how deep the waters here are.
So for now I pick and choose carefully
Who gets a glimpse of my insides.






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