Persona

What mask should I wear today?

Red or black or blue or gray?

Feathers, jewels, "Yes" or "No"?

I'm not sure of the way to go.

Everyone wants a different thing.

In many directions, there I swing

Extravagant, plain, what do you want?

There's not a mask I've haven't bought.

Which one should I wear today?

What's the part that I should play?

The role, the script, I'll do it all.

After all, such is my call.

Collecting Pieces

Welcome to the path.
The path is very difficult and can lead most anywhere.
No one knows why it's been established in the first place
With no alternate route.
I've been on the path since I was very young.
I can see the divergences
Off the path
Into the unknown.
That's how far along I am.
And how did I get here?

On the way, we're supposed to collect
Pieces.
It starts out easy enough.
The pieces are small.
Some find them faster than others.
The goal is to find them the fastest
And the most.

We reach checkpoints in the path every so often
To tally up what we found.
Most people get around 70% of what they were supposed to find.
Others get higher and others get lower
But you'll be left behind if you get lower.

Things get harder with each step.
The pieces get larger and harder to find.
Some of them have sharp edges.
Others skitter around and escape
The moment you capture them.
You need to use your previous pieces to hold them down.

Eventually, the pieces get so large
That you have to start making sacrifices.
Which piece do you keep?
Unfortunately, the checkpoints demand more and more
Pieces at this point.
How did I make room for everything?

I started by limiting my food
To make room for more pieces.
Then, I sacrificed my shelter.
Could I make one from the pieces I had?
I would have forgone clothing
If it didn't have pockets for my pieces.
Even so, it still wasn't enough to count at the checkpoints.
They were never satisfied with me
And, frankly, I had similar sentiments.

My case isn't unusual either.
I've seen people die on the path all the time.
They either get eaten by wild beasts
Or starve
Or freeze
Or overheat.
All in the name of those pieces.
I've been wondering, now, if the quest should be pursued at all.

Milestone Envy

I know you may have envied me
Just through what I've posted on this screen.
There's something I want you to know
About my many milestones.

I fall and hurt and sometimes cry
At things you might be asking "Why?".
Not all battles can be seen;
Some we fight internally.

The steps and take I words I say
Sometimes leave me lost, astray.
Some things I said I now regret,
Even thoughts I've not thought yet.

Those who are bright shine with appeal
To people who don't know how it feels
To perpetually burn inside
Despite every onlooker's pride.

You say that I do many things
And feel pain at wounds they bring,
But achievement only goes so far.
They never come without their scars.

I regret all the times I have
Been afraid and turned my back
On many opportunities
That benefits I'd surely reap.

Sometimes, I wish I'd have done more
Because life seems to have a score.
I don't know how how to win this game:
By money? Power? Status? Fame?

I guess it's all the same to you,
But milestones won't cure the blues.
Envy poisons, robs, deprives,
Souls of happy, healthy, lives.

So when you see a trophy's gleam,
Be careful, stop, and really think.
Awards are rarely what they seem
And even more rarely what they mean.

I Can't Do Anything Right

I've failed at everything that I do.
No compliment I've received is true.

In athletics, I trip and fall on my face.
Likewise, in school, I'm out of the race.

In science and math, I struggle and strive
Putting in more than I am to get by.

In language, the words don't come naturally
Mais mes camarades sont très magnifique.

For someone like me, failure's all that's in store.
Living, just living, is simply a chore.

I cannot ascend. I'll die if I fall.
I'm helplessly, helplessly, clinging to the wall.

The Doctor (Alternatively: Through Tears and Bleary Eyes)

Image Description: A doctor with their hand over their face as if in pain. A stethoscope dangles haphazardly from the doctor's hand.

 A child came in screaming in pain
Hoping that I'd fix his leg.
Through tears and bleary eyes, he said
"Doctor, it hurts more than I can bear.
I wish it wouldn't. It isn't fair.
Doctor, can you fix my leg
So I can run and jump and play?"
And I said "Yes, I can."
And so I fixed his leg.

A woman came in with her X-rays
Knowing she'd need to count her days.
Through tears and bleary eyes, she said
"Doctor, this is more than I can bear.
This isn't right, This isn't fair.
Doctor, do I have many days
So with my children I can play?"
And I said "Yes, you do."
Away I filed the X-rays.

A man came in and a smile feigned
So only I could know his pain.
Through tears and bleary eyes, he said
"Doctor, it's more than I can bear.
This isn't right; nor is it fair.
Doctor, I fear I cannot live
To see my wife's face and my children's grins."
And I said "Yes, you can,"
But he died the next day.

Alone in my home, I screamed aloud.
My own pain came over like a shroud.
"Yes, it's more than I can bear.
It isn't right. It isn't fair.
My soul hurts deeply from life's wrongs
Why's it I who must be strong?"
Then someone knocked and said to me
The words I needed all along.

"I know you have a broken soul
That hurts much worse than what I know.
No cast or tonic can mend your ills,
Not syrups or shots, not IVs or pills.
Here I have come to call you home
And tell you that you're not alone."
And on that day, my pain had ceased.
The child I met was hugging me.

Image Credit: Healthfinch.com

God Made the Five Temperaments

God made five temperaments.
Choleric, melancholic, sanguine, phlegmatic,
And supine.

He could have made us all choleric,
All eager to lead,
But impatient that no one would follow.

We could be all be melancholic,
Always striving for perfection,
But locked in a perpetual cycle of failure.

The human race could be all sanguine,
Enthusiastic and fun-loving,
But unproductive.

Everyone could be phlegmatic,
Peaceful and placid,
But with little zest for life.

The people of the world, if made all supine,
Would be eager to serve,
But unable to find someone to give our gifts to.

God made five temperaments
And everyone has some of each temperament
In differing quantities.

Everyone has a temperament
That God made in His image.
He made each of them for a purpose.

He made cholerics to lead
And set an example for His people.
Melancholics glorify Him
With their talents.
He made sanguines to love all the world,
Phlegmatics to labor faithfully,
And supines to serve a loving Master.

God made the five temperaments;
He made them in His Image.
Choleric, melancholic, sanguine, phlegmatic
And supine He created them.

Someone who "Happens to Have"

(Note: Don't read if excess repetition annoys you.)

I'm someone who happens to have Asian ancestry.
I'm someone who happens to have female anatomy.
I'm someone who happens to have a melancholic-choleric temperament.
I'm someone who happens to have an INTJ-T Myers-Briggs/Jung type.
I'm someone who happens to have a Kerisey Mastermind classification.
I'm someone who happens to have a flute.
I'm someone who happens to have musicianship.
I'm someone who happens to have a place in my school's marching band.
I'm someone who happens to have a blog.
I'm someone who happens to have limited skill in using Adobe Illustrator.
I'm someone who happens to have chosen to learn French.
I'm someone who happens to have an affinity for rainbows and all things pink.
I'm someone who happens to have ambiversion.
I'm someone who happens to have a preference for my right hand over my left.
I'm someone who happens to have black hair.
I'm someone who happens to have olive skin.
I'm someone who happens to have dark brown eyes.
I'm someone who happens to have an obsession with temperament classification.
I'm someone who happens to have ADHD.
I'm someone who happens to have autism.
I'm someone who happens to be me.

Disability and the Five Temperaments Part 4: Links to Specific Temperaments

Disability and the temperaments five,
From these things yourself has derived.
Learn about the connections here;
It will induce and nullify fears.

The choleric is hotheaded, proud, and brash;
With what they don't like, they surely will clash.
Their arrogance often precedes their fall
And they are the ones who will make the call.

Sanguines are fun-loving, charming and sweet.
In socialization, they cannot be beat.
However, they are insecurity-prone
And not very well they'll fare alone.

The melancholic wants perfection, yet fails
Always trying and striving to no avail.
But with detailed eye and compassionate heart,
This temperament is truly a work of art.

A phlegmatic does not treat life as a race.
They are content to go their own pace.
Stolid, impassive, and mild they are;
Their lack of drive will not take them far.

Supines, to follow and serve, are inclined.
Their lack of expression is their main bind.
Abundant are gentleness, patience, and love
In this temperament's spirit, pure as a dove. 

I Hate Math

Math is the worst of the subjects I take,

Worse than pestilence, pox, or a plague.

Math is abhorrent, just torture and pain,

And, of all that I do, the bane. 

Numbers are not the language I speak;

I'd better know Portuguese, Swedish, or Greek.

My thought is not swift, my mind is not fleet.

Math is just an ache in my feet. 

I'd rather learn English to sharpen my skills

At using my words to voice my will. 

I'd sooner learn fencing, a soil to till.

It's better to learn defense than to kill. 

The worst day of practicing playing my flute

Surpasses my best day of doing square roots.

Many could say that my point is moot,

But, honestly I don't give a hoot.

(A/N: A short and humorous poem that describes my hatred of math and love for English)

The Alphabet of Things I Would Rather Be Called Than Smart

So I'm smart

And that's all I am to you?

I would rather be ambitious

Or beautiful than just plain smart.

How about saying that I'm

Contemplative?

Even dependable would work.

Perhaps I am energetic.

The way my fleet fingers move across my flute

Evidences this. 

Should I just be grateful

That I am smart

Or be more hardcore?

Intuitive senses guide me

To be joyful

In all circumstances. 

My keen wit 

Only serves me so well.

I could be a leader

With a maidenly charm

And a nonconformist outlook.

Perhaps I am a little too optimistic.

I am precise in my work

And quirky when I create.

I am responsive to current events, but

Steadfast in what I believe.

Talented is only a measure of

What I can do,

But I would rather do

Than spend my life in a book.

My tendencies make me unique,

I do not live my life "normally".

My vivacious eyes

Are easily caught in wonder.

I am a wishfully thinking idealist.

Around new people, I can be xenodochial.

I plan to be youthful all my life

And zealous in every one of my passions.

Everyone Is Fighting

Everyone
Is fighting
A hard battle.

You may not see the sword
Or what they fight,
But everyone is fighting.

Some people battle large enemies.
Others' enemies are small.
They might be internal or invisible.
Each one of them is a formidable foe.

"My monster is larger
Or breathes fire
Or is invisible"
You might say.

But everyone is fighting something.
No life is without struggle.