I am not one, not two, nor three personalities,

but more than could be counted.

I belong to babbling friends.

Hear us fill the hollow hallways.

I belong to the squeal.

From the squeaky chair in a “safe place”.

I belong to the salty beads

rolling down rosy, pore-filled armour.

I am not from the geeks.

Those who proclaim their intelligence.

I belong to the freaks. 

Ones who collect at lunch.

I belong to the voice under the Friday Night Lights.

My face washed out to a pale mush.

I belong to wasted gas polluting skies, but for what?

Back and forth I go with double of everything.

I belong to all kinds of people who come together.

I am a mixture of sweet, salty, spicy, and oftentimes sour.

I belong to her and him— 

Friendship has zero limits

I belong to a dark endless sky

With hints of sparkles here and there

I belong to hundreds

because it’s who I am.