How fortunate is it to be seen and thought to be so-called “understood”?
I live in a devastating state of apprehension.
Yet damned to seldomly feel this thing called “misunderstood.” Constantly solving a puzzle where the pieces rarely fit.
Lucky for me, I am a builder that can shape-shift. To my conception, no one actually gets the concept. Truthfully, neither do I.

A woman of a unique craft filling my toolbox to maneuver through the physical plane.
Blessed with an ethereal state of mind.
Butterflies, dandelions, and roses
There may be clouds and sometimes even storms, but the sun always seems to find a way to shine.
Conformed my mind to live in my truth.

“Not everyone has your tools,” I say with a tearful smile upon my face.
Mask on, chisel in hand.
What’s the grand master plan?
I think to myself as I’m working my magic to the best of my ability.
Chipping away pieces to fit into others’ creations.
Unbelievable as it may seem.

Unfortunately, I blend for a time. But I am also a believer that my timing is divine.
Was I placed here to support others’ understanding of themselves and then to be put away on a shelf?
A prized possession constantly warping itself.

They think they get my picture, it’s continuously growing.
By the time they want to meet me where they thought I was, I am long gone.
Deep down, I am alright with being misinterpreted.
At least I’m seen and heard, right?

I want to be understood, but that may not be in the cards dealt for my life.
Thankfully, I understand myself and a bit of everyone else.
It’s very enticing being a shape-shifter with a unique toolbox.
Unique art on a grand extended shelf.