“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” – T.S. Eliot
I have measured my beauty with a scale.
I have measured my intelligence by letters,
And my day by the minutes it’s taken to get out of bed,
Sometimes I don’t give it a chance.
I have measured my worth in the eyes of others.
If they fill up halfway,
All the way,
Or not at all when they see me.
I have poured and counted and
Meticulously added my numbers,
Reduced to the mercy of markings,
Allowed to depend on these figures without feeling.
Too many times, too wrapped in oblivion to
Realize.
I am not a recipe, nor an
Equation to produce one right answer.
I’m not tied up in zeros and ones,
And though I’ve labored to become them,
Numbers cannot be me.
Not even if they tried.
BLB
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