Perfect, is the overstatement; Imperfect, an understatement;

In between those lines is me.

I am the crayon colored outside the lines,

the centuries old photo of a sunset left undefined.


Not heaven sent, but earthbound…


You can look around, but you won’t find me

I’m always alone and lost and hiding…


I belong in a world full of witches and warlocks,

Where broomsticks can fly, with wands and the sort,

and children are required seven years at Hogwarts.

When I’m not there, I’m on the run

From monsters and gods and quests from Camp Half-blood.


I don’t wear light skin, fair or even pale,

I wear marks called “runes” like Jace Herondale’s.


As you can see I read lots of books,

Of lives I wish to live

And places I wish to stay.

If anything, the world I live in is completely colored grey.


I am the me you’d never find.

So search left and right

You may just find someone unpredictable.

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741