Disorienting,
waking up to find I’d relegated
wild, creative parts of myself
to the corners of my own existence.

Wasting energy fashioning masks and filters
from the more-acceptable parts
and my perception of other’s needs,
drowning in exhaustion keeping them in place.

Ill-suited, perpetually reconfiguring
in attempt to fit my soul into soulless, man-made structures,
never drawing a full breath,
never fully seen.

Painfully slow,
reclaiming space to be unwieldy,
to forgive my younger self,
befriend my contradictions,

and sit with my own words
long enough to let them change me,
breathing all the way in,
all the way out.