How long will we sleep
uncomfortable
in our own skin?
Wearing woolen mittens wet
because we lack alternatives.
Why do we wait
so long
to live?
wasting time trying too hard
pretending we’re someone else’s playdough
ignoring ourselves in the process.
At eleven I was my best
at my worst
but never knew it:
climbing roofs
watching stars
searching the sky for love.
But on cross-legged Sundays
I wore someone else’s clothes
Then came the High School Masquerade
and suddenly simplicity
had left my side.
When can we finally
wear our real selves again?
Or do we ever really?
Maybe the answer is only found
in walking alone for a while
in falling down and weeping
in feeling your way through the darkness
of narrow choices:
corridors without a candle.
And when you come to know your truth;
When you finally decide to
stop hitching rides and
find your own
true way out of there…
Someone will always
pull up alongside
to offer you a lift
like a jump start to the soul:
Connected to them
you find new courage
to sound your voice.
Then you never think of
all the perfect comebacks
after the insults
because you never walk away
because you never bother to listen
in the first place
So you finally stop whispering
your own name.
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