JUNE 2004

> EVERYONE HAS A STORY | holly haufler

This endless search for independence takes me back to a time when age wasn't my worst enemy

So, with this declaration, I have discovered a newfound strength

Continuously evolving, this new me manifests itself in a monstrous status

So, it may be told upon my passing of the girl whose indecisiveness made her difficult to approach and to involve oneself with

Why am I so undeserving of love

I place this value upon myself, lacking numerals from any language

Development, form, intuition

What are these things

Steadfast, I search for the answers to the questions

Who am I

Where am I going

What direction should I take

Is this the path or route I should attempt to journey

This cosmic universe has allowed me to reside here but for a while, indulging in the luxuries of the world.

I am the epitome of marvelous, exquisiteness, uniqueness, and being idle

How I long for the taste of distant lands, foreign to my native tongue

Interrupting this normalcy, I presume

My ideas are overlapping, full of twists and turns, insights unbeknownst to me

How can I decipher my thought processes when they aren't mine to begin with

We are society's puppets, held in bondage

Unkempt and scratching to get out of this box Pandora has put us in

As the cuffs get tighter, I question my own intellect

Webster's won't aid me, nor will Roget

It is the luxury of choice

So, I pick my basket of berries, as I celebrate the birth of self

With each fruit, I memorize its shape, every curve, it's bodice a piece of art

Without clues, I climb mountains, flailing arms and waist strapped for the fall

Mankind hasn't delivered me from the valley I so carefully placed myself in

I inhale the polluted air, taking me to my next thought

Where is this going

Even I don't understand my never-ending babble that is such a chore to me

> BIOGRAPHY | about the author

She is an aspiring writer collecting dust, and an avid reader, who forgot how to. She has been writing since she was 12, a poet with no explanation, barely understanding self. Poetry has led her to a path to healing, self-destruction, and madness. She is a poet, simply.