When I decided to create a logo for myself, I had to understand what my essence was. What should my logo say about me? Well, I decided to let my words do the talking!

(Word cloud generated using python nltk and Word Cloud library. Words have been taken from all my online published content)

I am poetry in a dress.
You think you know what it means;
You think you know why it reads like it reads,
And why it doesn’t rhyme at parts.
You feel like it doesn’t make sense that,
some lines are bolder than the others.
You find that some lines are darker,
Some white spaces unusually long;
I tell you that each word scratched,
Is a change in my character.
You follow the lines, on the paper ivory.
And the paper folds with your touch,
Into origami, frail and beautiful.
But frail.
You see some i’s are dotted, and maybe,
maybe we can trace back where i lost i.
It muddles your mind with what it means,
whether it’s madness or magic.
Is there ever a between?
You wonder why it gets longer but gets nowhere,
why it drags some words.
Why some words carry weight of their own.
Some words serve their sentence,
for meaning too much too soon.
Some, in a bad phrase, for meaning too little.
And some carved onto me, like a scar
And you wonder if it’s a tattoo.
You read it once; you read it twice.
You say you like it.
But do you like the white spaces?
The obvious fullstops, the questioning marks.
The unsure semicolons; the harsh exclamations.
Do you like how it sounds on your tongue,
whether it melts or it rolls.
whether you can say it without changing a bit.
You ask for the rhyming scheme,
But I am not measured by what they say.
I have drawn few lines, and danced around them,
Written to read what i felt.
Woven with my dreams and all those characters I meet,
who took my words without my permission.
And some left their assigned lines to float over.
So I keep my lines in check, but i wonder over the whatifs,
if i need some handy semicolons.
You ask me why i use a typewriter,
Going back is a luxury I tell you.
Each word is hard-hitting, it’s a part of my soul,
Then why did I choose to read it out to you?
Can you hear where my voice trembled,
read; where my hands shook.
Can you tell me, what it tells you.
Does it bother you when it takes sharp turns,
Does it hurt you when words were shared?
Does it even matter, that some have bled.
It learns from the lines that have broken abruptly,
to keep them short; keep them mine.
And i want to keep them from you,
because many have been lost on it’s double-edged sword.
I want to learn your exotic words and how they rhyme,
But they tell me that they won’t go,
that there’s the entire alphabet in between two ones that match,
They tell me that you’re a traveller,
You read, you take.
You’ll move on to the next poem,
one that doesn’t seem so hard.
It’ll rhyme better, it’ll be simpler.
I can’t do simple. The words will weave and merge,
and at times conflict. But I’ll still own them all.
I’ll wear them, I’ll wear yours.