i have a lot to think about
like why are kettles stout?
many hesitations and doubt
perhaps I'm just doing this for clout

Dear diary;
who am I?
Whoever I am,
I frighten me.

Was it the patchwork dress I wore for my 8th birthday
Or the mud pies we made after the snow melted
Was it the green and black pleated skirt
Or the behavior chart with little red exes

What of these things rooted
Shallow and wide like a redwood
Shading my heart and soul
Encasing me in doubt

you confuse me.
but that's probably
because my mind
is clouded with
uncertainty
and sprinkled with
champagne stars.
i've been walking
in a fog of feelings
and pushing them
further and further away
with every glass i pour.
it's not fair
to ask someone steady
to walk with someone
so unbalanced
so not ready.
but you like that my
soul is filled with glitter
and i tell myself
that's gotta count for something.

In my mind I say what I mean
And mean what I say.
But my actions could speak otherwise.
Am I a hypocrite if my mind is far greater than my own two hands?

Am I helpless if I know what to do,
But my body won’t move according to plan?

Am I deluded if I think I can
When I can’t,
Or if I think I can’t,
When I can?

Am I who I am
Or am I what I am?

That of you inside my ears
Was hard to hear, but ever-clear.

That of you 'come out the mouth,
Was easy-heard, then brought more doubt.