It doesn’t fit anymore
This skin I’m in,
This hat I wear,
This person I’ve been.
It all feels so strange
Like it's someone elses
Like it’s too big or too tight
In all the wrong places.
I squirm at the discomfort
I itch with the stretch
From the pull of the world
I twist and push against.
I yearn to be free
Like I must have felt once
When I was younger
And without shape,
Before I knew I was.
As I twist, itching and squirming
I feel something new yet unknown
Something heavy and unseen:
A birthing pain in my neck
Stretching and pushing me out.


1 comment:
I love this. Always a good thing to keep growing at any age.
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