Poems on Identity

January 14, 2018
By HannaHelker BRONZE, Franklin, Wisconsin
HannaHelker BRONZE, Franklin, Wisconsin
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Here Lies the Cycle

Consciousness returns
with an arm and a foot and a sense.
Sense of skin with bruises and scars and marks,
life is seemingly so hard when eyes open to a new day.
Standing up in a mirror
and for a second, not recognizing the face
for the face is foreign .
How can you expect others to know you,
if you sometimes forget yourself.
In those seconds of the morning,
add them up,
Stack,
Stack,
Stacking
on the shoulders of the shadows of themselves,
we cannot be ourselves.
In defeat, I return back to my bed,
pitied in the embrace of my blanket
urging me to go back to a place where I can forget to remember
because the possibility of the stacking is too scary to face some days.
Ideas all originated in my head.
But with a head that says I only have a shred of a shadow of something to offer,
I turn ghostly.
Who am I?
Well, I am an arm and a foot a sense.
Sense of skin with bruises and scars and marks,
and in those mornings where I can't seem to recognize my own face
And feel the stack, stack, stacking
I admit, I let it sit on top of me.
And I admit, I forget who I ought to be.
But if I avoid feeling, then I’m senseless.
Less than who I can be .
And in a world that has so many beings,
I guess you could say that I am free to make the choice of who I am,
and how I present myself.
So I slap on a mask that blends in,
and go about my day.
The mask marked the same as everyone else’s
so I can be just like everyone else’s.
Comfortable in a crowd but not alone,
and I count the minutes until I can go home
and rip off the mask to reveal a face I do not recognize,
Here lies the cycle of me.


Multicolored Buildings


I live in a world of multicolored buildings,
they are my only company here.
I certainly have favorites, though I would never admit it,
and the list changes every year.
I approach each building with a polite hello,
and go inside to do what I do best.
To boil down the buildings to what’s holding them up,
a sort of multiphasic test.
And although I can relate all of them on a variety of ways,
I do have characteristics I prefer.
A blue block third from the right on the fourth level is my favorite,
and I try to avoid buildings with any green blocks on the tenth floor.
Some of the buildings never change,
but most do.
Changing bricks slightly or completely,
from grey to orange to blue.
Some buildings offer fun times,
others are soaked with tears.
But we never question each other,
And maybe that's why I’m the only person left here.


Color Change


Readymade, you throw yourself,
For you didn't feel like yourself.
Green painted soul swings purple,
View dissolves to only purple.



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