i am not

I am not an artist, nor a hero.
I am not a writer, nor a poet, nor a philosopher,
But I am good at pretending to be.
Do not hold me in such high regard.
Sometimes I wish I would
Stop hiding behind words that
Only contradict one another.
What can the spirit offer me when I cannot
Define it?
I am trying to find my enlightenment
Yet I refuse to let go of my ignorance.
I say it isn't so even when I know that it is
And only use the illusion of poetry
To mask a point that is uncertain.
My repetition is uninspired.
What I create is equally a part of all I touch
As it is a part of me.
I can take no credit for the joy that has been given to me.
There is a part of me that is restless
And anxious, but free and happy.
These two halves continue to run in
Parallel worlds, aware of each other's existence
But dare not to cross paths.
My reflection is a melodrama.
At times my emotions lack structure and definition
And has a life
Outside of what my physical being can handle.
I take the next step
WIthout knowing how to walk.
And hope that the universe will love me
For no other reason than it should.
But it shouldn't,
For I am no match for the selfless generosity
Displayed by those I love
And even by those I have never met.
I am the selfish kind. In life and love.
I expect everything from others but
Do not know how to give everything in return.
I wonder when they will see me
For the one I really am.
I wonder if they will accept that
Possibly the best quality about me
Is that I am human.
What that means I don't even know.