To step into myself

is uncharted territory.

To feel safe

is an unread part of the story.

In moments of vulnerability

I see the little me,

drenched in docility,

unable to be free.

dealt a difficult hand

that was impossible to play.

but I refuse to reprimand

what constantly wore me away.

I sometimes wonder about what it may have felt like

to have held a favourable hand.

But to ponder the unripe

is like sinking into quicksand.

My growth was halted

and for that, I mourn

but I ride the high tide

and begin to be reborn.