The Teenaged Version of Myself
she is unsure of her steps
held back by a reluctant tongue
her words are quiet
she stares shyly across rooms
her feelings are written
instead of spoken
she wades through mutinous days
and tear soaked nights
she tries to fit in
but she doesn’t belong
staring through mirrors
she wishes she was someone else
the teenaged version of myself
drew herself into a corner
home wasn’t the best
school was much worst
she was often laugh at like a running joke in sneakers
she was a tight ball of isolation
watching the world through plastic lenses
her heart had the longest longing
the teenaged version of myself
didn’t know the power of dreams and dreaming
being true the thyself
but the adult version of myself
ignores the laughter and whispers
and marches to her own off beat drum
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