Patterns
The more I write,
the more I see patterns
not symmetrical,
not pleasing,
just the quiet stitching
of things I’ve avoided.
Layers I didn’t ask to peel.
Layers that speak
in colours I forgot I loved.
Back then,
I drew.
Not things
just colour.
The books came with me
on every trip,
creases deepening like memory.
While the other kids played,
I sat,
letting red and blue explain things
I couldn’t say out loud.
I think I always knew
I wasn’t made for
group laughter,
loud friendships,
show-stealing stories.
I faked sickness
to stay close to someone softer.
Friends came
then didn’t.
Even now,
they don’t last.
I used to think that meant
something was wrong with me.
Now,
I’m just learning
it’s part of the design.
Writing helps.
Not to fix me
but to name what’s always been here.
The good,
the bad,
the things I wish were different.
I don’t want to be
this quiet echo of a person,
but I’ve started
to accept her.
The part of me that won’t sparkle,
that won’t ever fill a room
but who watches closely,
feels deeply,
and remembers
every shade.
Good or bad,
it’s who I am.
Perhaps my patterns
aren’t meant to be solved
just seen
…and honoured.
Image Generated by ChatGPT - Patterns
A quiet, introspective analysis of Patterns, a deeply personal poem about identity, solitude, and the slow work of self-acceptance. This downloadable PDF explores the emotional layers beneath the verses, from childhood memory to creative reflection. Includes space for handwritten notes—ideal for journaling, self-study, or reflective readers who find meaning in the unspoken.
Format: A4 | Printable | Includes space for notes
