Clay

I don't want to exist,

I want to loudly live,

I want to persist,

Bred unlike the crowd,

Grew I, sufficiently proud,

But there are times, my dear.

When I feed my fear,

I don't strive to be perfect,

Exists no such way,

I only am a descendant,

Of God-made clay,

Sometimes I am a star,

Sometimes I am the dark,

Sometimes in feelings plenty,

Sometimes cold and empty,

I am deathly pain,

I am the gracious help,

Whatever I be and am,

I am my own full self.