writing about myself isn't easy, you see
i'm a shy girl, it takes a lot for me to reveal to you the imagery
i create in my head, every second, every minute, every hour, every day.
but my mind? it spews out every thought i'm thinking into a complicated mess
you wouldn't believe the architecture of ideas i have built, so don't even guess.
i feel like i'm stuck in this moment, in perpetual standstill:
i'm just a lost soul waiting for the sunrise
i'm just a stone waiting to be thrown
a line wanting to be cast
the runner who works hard only to come in last.
to tell you the truth, i don't think i could stand the wait much longer
when did you ever hear of a mzungu who didn't wander?
i'm the poem you want to write but can't find the right terms,
i simply won't fit into your rhyme scheme without brewing a storm.
but i say, let the storm rage on!
i may be a dense jumble of disorder, raining until i flood your life,
but i will never let you suffer a drought.
i am the needed drizzle in the desert,
i am the soft breeze on warm sand.
i will travel the world
and even though i'll see the seven wonders, architecture, culture,
the greatest discovery will undoubtedly be
my newfound appreciation of me.