Ordinary.
One simple word; most complicated aspect.
Defines normal, regular, common, and accepted.
Yet it lacks the answer to why.
Is a painted picture of one’s paradise, ordinary?
Then why not paint my canvas black?
Who determines what is,
What may be?
What shall be accepted?
No one.
Ordinary is I.
A mind capable of choice,
Choice without fear of choosing the odd.
For there is no right ordinary,
There is no perfect normal.
What is common?
Who is regular?
Undetermined.
Always will be.
If only she could see, she has no choice.
No choice the moment she chooses to be them.
I am ordinary, yes.
I choose my options alone.
I am normal, yes.
I follow none.
I am accepted.
Am I?
*Inspired by Judith Guest’s Ordinary People.
© 2013 Stephanie Alfaia Gomes All Rights Reserved