Of exaggerations.


You know me
I’m a hyperbole
One eye at oneupping

Whenever it rains
They say it pours
Whenever it rains
I name the storm.

I dream sky high
From the first floor
I yell out fire for
The bell at the door.

My inner volume?
Always in extremes
Deathly silence
& withering screams.

You know me
I’m a hyperbole
Of exaggerations
In tranquility.

You know me
I’m a hyperbole
Amplifying all but
My own fallacy.


For those people who seem to exaggerate everything – the good, the bad, the middling. For whom it’s always an either of two extreme paths – go big or go home – but are still an irreplaceable part of our lives. My piece, personally, is for one of the most interesting, most insanely dramatic characters I’ve ever read in literature – Holden Caulfield, the protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, which I’m strangely obsessed with. It’s about how people who talk in degrees much greater than their own selves tend to embellish nearly everything, except when it comes to their own faults. If you’ve read the book, read the poem through from his perspective. It’s totally normal to dedicate poetry to fictional characters, right?

P. S. – the poem is also a revised version of what I wrote 5ish years ago.

2 Replies to “Of exaggerations.”

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