I used to be as bitter as the wood
waiting to catch fire and
I looked forward to a good cry
at night
But mornings were good for me
I woke up thinking like maybe
I had mastered what it’s like to be alone
Maybe I had mastered what it’s like to
fill up a room
of silence
with just my breath
My spirit starts to get cocky
at how it's learned the rhythm
of a stone
rippling through the water
about to head home
sinking like some
deep sea creature
allowed to live
in the abyssal zone
20,000 feet deep in
nothing but my own
unshakable core