Sometimes my words spill out like water over shattered dams,

While other times my answer to a question is a gaping trance.

At times my confidence excites my very core and takes over control,

Whereas on other days my fears convert that core into a crying soul.

Sometimes I’m overwhelmed with happiness for being born upon this gorgeous earth,

Yet every Monday morning I curse nature for my vapid birth.

On some days I turn whitest sheets of paper into dazzling works of art,

While other times I’m thrilled by dullest of statistics and pie charts.

I dance so smoothly, then mock the fragile ballerina I once strived to be.

I sing so calmly, then drown my voice in screams of punk rock devotees.

Sometimes I ache with sorrow that I wont ever be close enough to touch a star

While other times the thought of life outside of gravity seems blatantly bizarre.

So how do I define for you a concrete rigid me?

When there are so many of I who change their views so easily.