Lure of Adjectives

Have I fallen victim to the lure of adjectives?

Give everything a title--

Assign everything names--

Restrict them with concrete meaning.

Have I assigned myself adjectives?

Have I defined how I will say ,”I am?”

 

I am creative.

Sounds spontaneous, colorful, alluring, intelligent, artistic, and fun.

Right?

Is that the underlying meaning of creative?

Because I’m not all of those things,

Though that’s what comes to mind

When told to describe what I am.

 

I am intelligent.

I see books, pencils, sprawled handwriting, slightly messy personality, and a limited humor.

That’s just what the word paints in my mind.

But that’s not me.

I am intelligent, but I’m not like this.

Let’s not fall victim to the lure of adjectives.

 

I am mischievous.

There’s a fox. Red. Crooked smile, crouched close to the ground, happy in its stealth.

Vermillion blood red. Stands out.

But I do not.

I like causing trouble…in a playful way.

I’m not the fox though. I don’t enjoy tricking my prey in order to kill them.

 

I am clumsy.

Lanky, problematic, uncoordinated, messy, train-wreck, and inevitable face palm.

Baby giraffes. Too tall adults.

Yes, I’m clumsy.

But wow I said one word and all this happens?

Do not assume from simple words.

 

I am pretty.

Beauty queens, make-up, expensive clothes, probably athletic, likes talking to guys a tad much.

Pardon me?

I don’t know what just happened,

But stop connecting dots.

We’ve all fallen prey to the lure of adjectives.

 

What is it about descriptive words

That cause blotched inferring

And erred assumptions?

I would love to answer this simple question

Of who I am,

But I am scared that you might get the wrong idea.

 

I’ll probably use the wrong words--

Or the right words, comprehended wrong.

 

So I’ll shy away from this question.

 

I told you who I am.

 

I am creative.

I am intelligent.

I am mischievous.

I am clumsy.

I am pretty.

I am too complicated.

I cannot be described with just words.

This poem is about: 
Me

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