i am so used to telling myself that I am not enough.
i look at the mirror and i am not enough.
my ribs hold protective of my worried and used heart, wondering if it can be used to love anyone more so much.
my core holds my balance, wondering if the perils of the earth are too much to keep me standing straight up.
my head holds my brain, steady and wise yet youthful and innocent. my hands hold my past, engraved in a memories i will soon forget.
i have enough, i am enough, yet it is so hard to say.