Poetry by Taylor

I dont believe anyone ever knows who they are
But yet everyone around me feel so set in stone
Like their quirks and habits will never change
Even if they do, they themselves stay the same.

So why do I, does me, feel so uncertain?
Like clay cracking every day
Pieces lost, fillers found, finding ways to be enough
Ways to still hold others when my arms feel fake
Ways to still laugh when my tongue is twisted
To stand when my legs just shake

I am a floating countertop
Sometimes used
Sometimes a floor
Sometimes a roof

I am a tree
trying to grow, but I have no roots

I am too tall
In a body too short to hold me

I am too big
In a head filled already

I have too many fingers
That can never write enough words