Been much like
Those years that swam and swung by
Long sweaters covering dainty wrists
To hide the cuts and twists
Bathroom felt like a sanctuary
In the darkest corners
Of a small town
I knew not how to fully express myself in.

Wispy moon hair
And the confidence to do as one pleased
Kept it at ease
From those that liked
But didn't, couldn't
Want to fully support
Alabama leaves
Blowing through trees
Into a higher vibration.

An adult now
But sometimes no such thing
In the pit of butterfly guts
Collecting fiber, wood for fire
A tray filled of what wasn't said
Shown, or given
Fighting those entities daily
As to not
Wallow in
The all too familiar feeling
Of that corner
Of the sky blue
Pepto-bismol pink
And on into a limey seafoam green.

So we become a scientist
A philanthropist
An alchemist concocting
What measurable amount
Of joy
Can be found
In each corner
Of this room?