Peace.
I just want peace.
Yet everywhere I turn,
Hatred seethes and burns.
I do my best to remedy,
Arguments and disharmony.
My opinions and problems pushed aside,
Not important enough to confide.
No one would listen anyway.
Some say I'm calming,
A steady rock in a raging sea.
A hand, wounds gently balming. But I don't really know, me.
I'm so busy, trying to keep the peace.
My own thoughts on important matters, cease.
Not that I care anyway.
My middle name is practically.
Complacency.
Little things don't matter to me,
Big things too.
I don't really know what's wrong with me,
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what I think.
I don't know how to be,
Me.
I just know how to be,
Everybody.
I keep the peace, yes.
But at what cost?
Author's Notes:
Written by MirMirMiryam! Seriously, she gets everyone so well.
![]()
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/186531362-288-k563560.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Souls of the Enneagram
RandomA collaboration of poems written by me and some friends describing our own and other enneagram types. The enneagram is a personality typing system that really digs down into a person's core, revealing their desires, motives, and fears. I hope you ca...