My superpower, or the thing I do a little differently from others, is being able to depict how I feel in a variety of nonverbal and written forms. I just can’t look someone in the eyes and verbally explain. For example I feel sad. But maybe you’re not sure how sad. I could say I feel very say, but that’s still not a very vivid or clarified version describing the intensity of my melancholy state.
So, I could use metaphors, similes and personification.
I’m as sad as the stars and the crescent moon when the clouds come crashing in. When the thick grey sheets tuck their light away and the night is dark again. I’m as down as a tire that’s been stabbed by the wits of the world. Nails, glass, rocks, and bumps have shut his groove away. With holes and gaps he’s lost his purpose. Now he is thrown away. I’m as blue as the sky on a cool autumn day when the sun sits quietly overhead, when the birds are drinking from yesterdays puddles and the clouds are at rest far away. I’m as melancholy as a tree who’s survived a monstrous storm. As a tree who’s been shaken, who’s been tossed and nastily torn; as a tree who’s got nothing to live for.
I could just describe how I feel as vivid as my mind allows me.
I am sad. I’m so sad my mind warns me that all hope is lost and all nights are black. All the stars have burned out, the sun tucked away and the moon so thin so I missed her smile today. The grass has turned a putrid yellow and the dirt has turned to dust. The sky once blue, has faded to purple, from purple to black to a grey so robust. I tell you now, bad things happen when I’m around, so tie your shoes and lock your bikes, ’cause bad luck just strolled into town. I feel distraught every waking moment and this energy powers my dreams. I toss and turn when I should be still, and I scream when she’s promised sweet dreams. I let my cereal get soggy and my ice water, warm. I let the wind screech in my face and assure me of my utter disgrace. I’m so upset with who I am that who I am is not welcome in God’s good name, so I cry. When I cry my tears seem to taunt me by burning and flooding my thoughts. My thoughts now flooded, my nose still runny, my stomach now an abundance of knots.
This isn’t intended to be good poetry, but it is intended to reflect how simple it is for me to speak, explain and contribute my two cents or thoughts without ever opening my mouth. You’d just have to meet me in person to know I could never speak my mind so profoundly if asked to do so from my mouth.