Isn’t It?

It's written all over my face,

Isn't it?

How I live,

And how I think.

It's hidden in the words I say,

Isn't it?

Where I come from,

And where I'm going.

It's reflected in the light of my eyes,

Isn't it?

What I've seen,

And what I dream.

It's woven into the clothes I wear,

Isn't it?

Who I've always been,

And who I'll end up being.

I cannot be categorized,

And cataloged,

And understood from a single word.

A phrase that is meant to hurt,

Will never define,

The life I live,

The soul I am,

The dreams I have.

To be boiled down,

From eternal intellegence,

From cosmic miracle,

From wonderous existence,

To a single,

Two-dimensional,

Mortal concept of personhood -

It's the saddest thing to be,

Isn't it?

@ Danceinsilence