Gold, Mortality and Everything in Between || Poetry ✓

BROKEN RESUME to all the employers who would never hire me

//spoken word poetry//

Name : still searching

Age :

Somewhere between too young for this world and too old to live.
Somewhere between too young to leave and too old to count numbers on my hand.

Educational qualifications :

I know why the sky is blue
And where all the water from the rain goes to.
I know how to spell me-di-ci-ne
And how to pronounce pronouns.
I know I is equal to one
And one is neither a prime nor a composite.

Key skills :

I always get stuck at least twice while opening the lock of my front door.
I cannot put the latch on the door of my room
Because I feel the oxygen trapped within the four walls will suffocate me,
So I spend most of my time on the balcony -
The part of the building that does not have a solid support underneath -
It's the closest I can get to flying.
Flying is not one of my key skills.
Neither am I good with keys and locks and files and folders and lies and... politics.

Social work :

I have a diary where I write the name of every person I've ever come across.
Crossed paths on a road, sat beside in the metro, stumbled upon in the college corridors, heard and hated in the movie theatres.
I never came to know any of their names,
So the diary sits empty.

There was this man who approached me in the metro
One day, when all the people were staring at me because I was overdressed.
He came to tell me not to be afraid.
That he understood what it feels like to be stared at,
What it feels like to be different.
He had sad eyes and a brave smile
And he wanted to make me happy.
I never got to ask him his story
Because I had to get down at the next station.
I wish I had not gotten down at the next station.
I wish I had taken the train with him,
Gotten down at a different station,
Far away from my destination.
At least I would've come back with the first name to write on my diary.

Training :

In school we were taught to embroider flowers on handkerchiefs.
They did not teach us how to not prick our fingers on the needle, or how long the thread should be.
They merely dictated the colours and marked us on the end product.
The class was called work experience.
Where they taught us how pink the petals should be,
Taught us to never use the handkerchief to wipe our lipstick in public
And only use it in secret if we needed it for the tears.

Interests :

Ma'am, Sir - I like making Lego houses,
Not with lego pieces
But with metaphors.

I also like making origami,
Not with paper
But with metaphors.

Another interest of mine is making sand castles
Not with sand
But with metaphors.

See, when you breathe in oxygen,
You exhale out carbon dioxide.
So while the world has been shoving reality and logic down my throat,
I've been vomiting metaphors, as long as I can remember.
Wishing for those metaphors to turn into plastic and paper and sand and mountains and valleys and oceans of my own;
I've been stacking the metaphors one on top of another
To create forts and castles and caves big enough that an entire family of dragons can live within it...

Because dragons are supposed to be real.
One day, my metaphors will make them real.

Career objectives :

I want to be the ambassador of earth when we first make contact with the aliens
And it's not a metaphor.

Closing statement :

Thank you for taking the time to review my resume.
I look forward to any opportunities to discuss the position and what I can do for your company.
I believe my personal vision and values align with your company
And that I'd be a great fit for your organisation.

THANK YOU.

VERIFIED : I'M NOT A ROBOT.