You can call me:
a big ‘ole dork,
the one who always brandishes a big smile.
The broken hearted.
The mask bearer.
The odd one.
Maybe even a colorful mess.
But who truly knows their own identity?
I begin to question the stars that light their own individual way.
You can call me weak—It doesn't faze me anymore.
You can call me the lover.
Embrace the gentle touch of the soul that wants to heal the broken.
You can call me simple dreamer.
At least my dreams fly over yours.
You can call me a poet.
Words fail to display emotions without my poetic touch.
You can call me all sorts of things but I'll still hunt for my true ideals in the end.
So now l know
You can call me “AJ”