I cry a lot for myself.
I think about myself as a toddler. With a blonde,
choppy bob, and a mouth as big as my face. Those
little rows of perfectly aligned teeth grew to be
wonky in the centre.
Those bright eyes that held so much happiness,
somehow flood towns and rivers now.
That picture of my sister, mother, father and I,
huddled around a pub table. My cheeks are flushed,
my small red top so bright next to the blue and yellow of their shirts.

They all smile while I just stared, afraid;
Knowing something about the future I could never quite
comprehend.