I sit there
Stoic like
small tower
natural-
these bloodshot eyes and caffeinated hands doing a good dance

knock knock,
here at the
land
“fight or flight” they said my inclination is to
bite-
it’s my right, no.

I gift my parents a smile it’s what they wanted
frowns (ours) from lands not known beyond the borders of
(Consistent) crinkles of the corners of cheeks

I’m not consistent like
clouds
but waves,
I have always wanted to be the sea.

In my land (big) of
-Drip drop-
in my
Home lies my sweet.