Individuality

Though this entanglement of bones

covered by war-torn skin

is the containment of my very being,

I suppose an amorphous frame

would not alter my passions, 

would not fracture my soul,

would not corrupt my knowledge.

 

For the eyes that I look through

are rather unessential,

because I'll always manage to see

an indescribable rainbow haze

where the rest of the world sees

a black and white nothing.

 

For the legs that carry me 

are rather meaningless

because every miniscule step I take

will sing the same staccato rhythm

that knocks in my heart,

that no song could ever replace.

 

For the body that confines me

will never define me,

and restrictions are invalid

in the depths of my spirit.

This soul is tangible,

this soul is bulletproof,

this soul is not open to interpretation.

 

And this soul can never be replaced.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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