Amen

I guess I should write:
roses are red
violets are blue
I’m just standing here
waiting for you.
but hell
that ain’t who I am.
maybe I’m street smart
even though I’ve never lived on the street.
maybe I was born crooked
even though I look like everyone else.
I can’t figure out where I belong
so maybe I’m trying to fit in a square hole
when all the edges of me are stars
long and wide and somewhat broken
(if you look closely).
what does one more wayward person
mean to a planet filled with personal universes?
why am I here?
do I even matter?
if my breath was silenced
would the vibrations of this world change?
roses are red
violets are blue
I’m whispering away
offering a small clue for you