Not

Love is not a plaything

it cannot be tossed around like the bowling pins a clown juggles,

going around and around and hypnotizing

the crowd in front of it

Rage is not a weapon

it must be molded like hot metal,

into ambition and something for the better

Misery is not rain

for rain is the best of days,

the pitter-patter of the lachrymiform drops

bouncing off the roof and sliding down the pipe.

I am not her,

I never will be

because I am the girl that is quiet when she should be loud

I am loud when I am supposed to be the shadows

I cannot seem to say the right thing

I am not the sun you seek on a rainy day

because,

I am the rainy day

I am what you run from

I am not open-armed, waiting for you

I will never wait for you,

because honestly,

I have better things to do.