On the Confusing Nature of People

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A somewhat rambling poem about the nature of people (lots of similes). Faintly humorous.

Submitted: May 11, 2017

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Submitted: May 11, 2017

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People are complicated things.

There really isn’t such a thing as an average person

that is, an average standard for people

because if you took every trait imaginable

added them,

divided them,

there really wouldn’t be much left at all.

We’re not even taking into account polar opposites.

Still, your average person is kinda like an ocean:

a huge, formless mass full of a bunch of stuff

more stuff

stuff that moves around

young stuff

old stuff

other stuff

and there’s always new stuff.

Really, a person is never the same two days.

They’re like dice, in a way,

because people have sides

and while they may seem random

there’s no such thing as coincidence.

Dice, of course, are completely random

though not coincidental

which is why people are so much harder to understand than dice.

At least, dice only have six sides,

and you only have so many possibilities.

Trying to predict people

is like throwing a normal six-sided die

and having it come up seven

or pi

or 1,000,000,000

or one-eighth

or 22

or infinity.

People come in different types, like quarks

and different colors, also like quarks.

The ‘people who knew that quarks came in different colors’

and ‘the people who didn’t’ are two distinct types,

but somehow it all comes to the same thing.

The problem with people is that

somewhere hidden really deep

is the fundamental truth

of who they are

and how we are all alike;

a breeze that we can’t see or touch

and never can

but we know it’s there.

Because people are like life.

They’re so much richer

deeper

stranger

bigger

higher

better

than anything that could ever be imagined.

 

It's kinda scary.

After all, so are most things worth knowing.


© Copyright 2017 Teresa Morgan. All rights reserved.

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