I am not made of gloriously pristine lavenders

Or resplendent, snowy daisies

Not even cherry blossoms with petals as softs as the summer rain

I am made of roses,

Filled with sweet passion yet rough around the edges

With thorns that are always read to prick

Because I am undefined an fiercely wild in an unimaginable way

I am not made of dainty ballet slippers

Or exquisitely high platform heels

Not even graceful and elegant sandals

I am made of Converse,

Stylish, contemporary, chic, and versatile yet simple nevertheless

With a rigid and durable demeanor

Because I am artsy and angelic in a warrior-like way

I am not made of ethereal butterflies

Or bunnies that are fragile and vulnerable

Not even adorable, meek lambs, which are flawlessly white

I am made of cheetahs,

Strong, electrically agile and swift yet spirited and charming

With eyes amber like the glossy, captivating sun right before it sets

Because I am fiery and zealous in a phenomenal way

I am not made of florid dollhouses

Or delicate, cuddly teddy bears

Not even tea parties with ceramic mugs and mini chocolate muffins

I am made of crayons,

Colorful and jubilant yet able to melt in the torridity

With different tones and rare shades

Because I am mystifying and exotic in a whimsical way

I am not made of pretty and perfect lies

Or things that someone else wants me to be

Not even the basic things that society expects

I am made of originality

I am who I want to be no matter the challenges

I will be who I want to be no matter what they say

Because these are the pieces of myself