Honestly, It Feels Wrong To Give This Poem An Ironic Title, So I’m Just Going To Call It “Charles”

I am not the clothes I wear.

I’m not the style of my hair.

I’m not my height or weight or style,

Neither my scowl nor my smile.

All these things that you can see

Mean nothing to that which is me.

I’m what I do, or so I’ve found;

My body’s just to get around.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s