i feel dwarfed by those words
(more beautiful than mine,
more eloquent, original, and free)
and by my family's muddled history,
the trials and the things they overcame.
i feel humbled by my father's love
(his miracle baby girl)
and i wish i felt anything like i deserved it.
what have i done?
written some words and painted a few pictures,
and that's nothing compared to the
things it took to get me here, the loves and the losses.
people struggled every day for the
future i can have,
and what if i don't take it
(it could simply slip away).

i feel dwarfed by the expectations,
trampled by my fear,
i feel humbled by the trust they have in me
and i wish i felt an ounce of it.