in this room
noise level
rising
and my pen erupts
the hard truth
it's time to change, again
this frightens me
and i feel lost
transition tightens at my throat
and i start to gasp
i want more of that
terrifying realization
weak and simple
this me, the one that evolved from sand
quickly turned to glass
never setting entirely
permeable and translucent
yet sharp and cutting
she's scratching again
the bars have tightened
the dull and tranquil
merely stagnation
dressed up
bows and pleated skirts in place