|Found on google images. I own nothing.|
What could you possibly teach me? I want to know more, to do more, to be more. I don’t know that I want to learn.
What is this word you keep shoving at my face and stuffing down my throat? Do I look like a statue to you? Something unfeeling and uncaring and made of pure, white stone? I am not that cold. I am not that pure.
I am me.
I am different.
My differences make me want to be more. I want to know, but I do not want to learn this strange thing you ask of me.
(c) Sara Harricharan