A pair of poems on fitting in
With thanks to Mary Holden for the edits
Earlier this year, I wrote two poems about fitting in. I published the first version of each, asking for comments and edits. Several people replied, and I used their edits on the next version. The wonderful Mary Holden grabbed the poems and did a full edit on them. I appreciate everyone’s efforts in making these two pieces the best they can be.
I would really like to present these two poems as text side by side, since they play off each other very well. But, alas, Medium doesn’t let that kind of formatting be done. The only work around I know of is the image shown below. After the image comes the poems themselves. (If anyone knows of a way to show the poems as text next to each other, please let me know!)
Square Peg, Round Hole
I am the square peg. I don’t fit.
Tell me I have messed up,
I will agree in a moment.
Tell me I did something good,
I will blush and disagree.
I am the square peg. I don’t fit.
I don’t know if I am enough.
I don’t know if what I’ve done
is good or bad or just is…
I don’t know how to tell.
I am the square peg. I don’t fit.
I have many friends, but few know
the real me — the hurt the loss the pain.
The few who do know tell me I belong.
But it’s taken years to believe.
I am the square peg. I don’t fit.
Too many moves, too many changes,
too often new kid new school.
I missed much of norm and normal
I didn’t even know what
I had missed — what I didn’t know.
I am the square peg. I don’t fit.
How did I learn to look upon
my work as if it were not mine?
How did I learn to tell myself
what works and what doesn’t?
How do I stop the self-critiques?
I am the square peg. I don’t fit.
I would love to be another peg.
One who is what she seems.
One who can say “thank you”
without also putting myself down.
The one who belongs.
I am the square peg. I don’t fit.
I long to be something other.
Round Peg, Round Hole
I am the square peg
without a place to belong.
Sharp corners longing to be smooth
So I can fit like others seem to do.
I am the diamond peg.
On first glance it looks like
I might belong, but deeper study shows
my angles aren’t quite right.
I am the triangle peg.
Able to appear OK, but I fill only
half. Never enough to go around.
Afraid no place exists to belong.
I am the star peg.
Shining brighter than I feel.
Dancing along to keep up with myself.
Burning out all too soon.
I am the round peg.
People I am with understand me.
The things I do, work well.
On the surface, I rejoice.
Being the round peg,
in a perfect round hole,
I belong.
I found a home.
