_Wet ceilings_,  eyes like drywall —
quietly hiding all the water behind it.
Just to squint through scratched lenses, 
blinking more than I’m allowed to cry.

Growing up feels just like deep waters.
__Adult swim:__ all the kids clear out; 
the only ones left, are the ones we'll make.

The lives we build on purpose, to follow 
all of the rules of the house, growing up 
beneath ceilings all painted like clouds.

But build it differently— _leave a crack_ 
for the rain, so the growing storm can pass 
through, instead of it rotting in the wall.