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.