i’ve let ghosts grow
inside me for too long
in a greenhouse of self-deprecation

i fed them sunlight in the
form of grief, water in the form
of tears, and tilled soil with heartbreak

now, i will cut them at the root,
tear at the stems with my voice
until my hands are bloodied by thorns

i will no longer be diaphanous,
i will let my limbs stretch
and take up space

i am human
i am an original orchestration
of carbon and screams;

i was made to survive