Chelsea Petty Poems

If I were a character in a play, I would be most complex. The audience would watch my actions with intrigue and wonder at the psychology behind what I do. The playwright would be revered as amazing and intelligent for his creation of such an unusual character. I would be as household as Blanche or Hedda. The actors who play me would spend hours researching the motivations and thoughts of someone such as me. The problem would be that there would be no person alive or dead who compared to my character. The actors would receive awards of the highest honor for their ability, or rather inability, to bring to life someone so awe-striking. If I were a characer in a play, that's how things would be.

If I were a character in a book, English teachers would assign my story to defenseless students for centuries. I would be studied for my quirks and have propositions made about my drives. I would become a headache for innocent kids who are forced to write their dissertations on what they foolishly think they have discovered. If I were a character in a book, that's how it would go.
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Lately the words that I hear,
They sever and hurt my ears.
They cut through my heart
And pierce my soul.
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Son of God, Son of Man
Ruler over all the Land.
Tiny baby
Came to save me.
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