Growing
When I was twelve I was long-haired And fat I had eczema that crawled along my skin In the summer And crept into my dreams At night I was a dancer
When I turned fourteen I felt broken but destined for balance I believed in something Possessed a Righteous sense of self defense Loud hair And a person
Then I was seventeen, I’d known some things Learned around myself, kept falling and falling somewhere But I was dancing Fiercely holding onto movement And proof of existence I was alive With no fear Of —
Then I was twenty
Misplaced Stagnant and somewhat hopeless I was finding and losing trinkets Bones and tongues …And
Body
I am almost twenty-three I do not dance I seem to find in pieces I am here Simply here, writing on my life In fragmented stages Remembering the vague, abstract chunks Of my existence
But I am here