Who I am exactly is perplexing to say,
when the filter fabricated in your eyes is cliché.
I was fashioned in the snow and polished by the rain.
My creativity is boundless thus; the blank page is my domain.
Who I am, is a stowaway from afore of the millennium.
I am an old soul simply swinging on the pendulum.
It is a pendulum of the contemporary and the ancient.
The limbo of vintage and modern is my blissful enslavement.
Who I am, is a fusion of golden-era thespians.
Like John Wayne, a patriotic and old-fashioned pedestrian.
I am Carry Grant, strategically suave and comically skilled.
Like Katherine Hepburn, I present myself proper and strong-willed.
Who I am, is a passionate love song.
Hopeless romanticism is the haven to which I belong.
A motivating tremolo that initiates your start,
I am a relatable shoulder that understands your heart.
Copious oxymorons define me.
I am a tranquil lake and a roaring sea,
I am a quaint hum and an obnoxious drum roll.
Who I am, is a young girl with an old soul.