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Onions, really.
May 3, 2017
People, like onions
Have got layers and layers and layers.
Almost always the first one is pleasant
But then that can wear away,
Or peel away,
Or fall away altogether.
Underneath they’re a little more different
You can judge what layer
to judge them by.
People are whole altogether
Like Russian nesting dolls
They are themselves in themselves,
somewhere else.
Yeah, their environment will change them too
Their place on infinite time space,
right then.
But they’re complicated,
just like you
Able and unable to communicate themselves.
© Cara A., Kannapolis, NC
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A tidbit about what inspired this: I have an uncle on my father's side who's the only living relative I'd never met until last year (when I wrote this poem). The reason for this is that he and my father had never gotten on. I had always been frightened at the thought of him, yet when I did end up meeting him (even if it was only for a moment, really) he appeared to be a polite person. Obviously, this should not have been as surprising as it was, but it did inspire me to write.