Maybe


I'm a resolute being. Sort of.
Well, you can't sway me, I have opinions-
(Occasionally) Agnostic, Pro-Life (in certain situations),
And, surely, my soul mate exists (if I can find him).
Can't I just call it being open-minded?
Just for that single resonating fragment,
Simmering with honest emotion, velvet words and ambiguity,
I prose through my ambivalence, when I have the time,
And etch my cynical contemplations onto crisply lined pages.
These words, these half-defined characters and this half-defined me,
We're disguised as a spiral notebook
Shielded by the shadows of old magazines and inconsequential things:
Middle school memorabilia, Beanie Babies, songs I used to sing.
So I don't come to conclusions, but I have a truth or two:
I'm content with being human,
And content with being me.
Usually.

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