There are different kinds of intelligence, all quite impressive:

The ability to memorize information and spit it back out when needed (this is what society generally calls "smart")

The ability to promote creativity and general sophistication to use that in everyday actions (this is what society generally calls "creative")

The ability to see a situation, form a new idea in your head, and use it (this is what society generally calls "innovative")

The ability to access all three of the above and teach that effectively to someone else (this is what society should be calling "wisdom")

Come with me

Take my hand and let me pull you into this void

Of swirling kisses and latched hands

Let me run my fingers through your curls and down your back

And trace your scars with a finger down your neck

I’ll caress your embraces with the action returned

When tears blur your vision and darken your clothes

And sobs are muffled by karaoke in the dark

Knives are taken from the stabber

And bullets from the gun

As we run through fields of deception

Flowers bloom in bunches

And honesty is weighed with lies

Secrets spill on marble floors

We rob our own galleries

And take only exhibit labels

Grandfather clocks read midnight

Housewives inhale mahogany shavings

And cough back medical bills

Freedom clouds our nightmares

And sticks shirts to skin with sweat

Barn owls stretch their wings

Wondering, “Who am I?”

Lighted cigarettes wish they were bonfires

We make promises

And steer away from statistics

We won’t be numbers on a graph

Toes in the water, wooden docks breaking golden rays

They pull us in until waves lap our neck

And silver lockets sink into the sea

Anchors seem to float

When anyone asks,

You swore to guide us

Till the end

(I entered this somewhere else and this doesn't count as an entry because it is my competition, this is just to give an example)

morning dove sang

in the sky

hunter shot high with a bang

morning dove sang,

her voice a soft pang

melodies rang

in the sky

lining up little bottles

of pasty mustard and pastel pink,

cerulean blue and kumquat orange

and shocking green

that blinds you

first is the pinky nail

you wipe it clean

and push back the skin

that you later learn (at the hospital)

is called a cuticle

then then next four fingers

on your left hand

in alternating colors that form

an uneven rainbow,

yellow, green, orange, blue, pink,

you get to your right hand

shakily, your non-dominant hand

paints your other hand, literally

your other hand, your left hand trembling

like it has a stutter, and missing the nail

and polka dotting your skin

this wasn't your manicure kit,

(does gender even matter?)

you shouldn't be messing with it.

mother calls your name and you quickly grab the camera

and snap a photograph of your newly painted nails,

your hand slightly covering the lens to catch a bit of beige-pink in the pic

before dropping the polish and sprinting to the door,

but the wood is slippery, and you fall,

your arm cracking against the floor.

the pain explodes like a bomb to the tips of your toes

and the scalp of your head

and the tips of your newly painted fingers

and laughs of guilt and joy of colorful hands

turns to screams of pain and streaming tears

the photo only shows

what happened before the moment

i look at my nails now

and i think i still see a tiny speck of

pasty mustard and pastel pink,

cerulean blue and kumquat orange

and shocking green

that blinds me

Come with me

Take my hand and let me pull you into this void

Of swirling kisses and latched hands

Let me run my fingers through your curls and down your back

And trace your scars with a finger down your neck

I'll caress your embraces with the action returned

When tears blur your vision and darken your clothes

And sobs are muffled by karaoke in the dark

Knives are taken from the stabber

And bullets from the gun

As we run through fields of deception

Flowers bloom in bunches

And honesty is weighed with lies

Secrets spill on marble floors

We rob our own galleries

And take only exhibit labels

Grandfather clocks read midnight

Housewives inhale mahogany shavings

And cough back medical bills

Freedom clouds our nightmares

And sticks shirts to skin with sweat

Barn owls stretch their wings

Wondering, "Who am I?"

Lighted cigarettes wish they were bonfires

We make promises

And steer away from statistics

We won't be numbers on a graph

Toes in the water, wooden docks breaking golden rays

They pull us in until waves lap our neck

And silver lockets sink into the sea

Anchors seem to float

When anyone asks,

You swore to guide us

Till the end