I feel like Saint Nicholas at the council of NiceaFacing off with a stubborn fool.Nothing I say is getting through to you;I want to…
The middle is an awkward place:Pushed and pulled from either side,I try to carve out my own spaceTo love myself, to have some pride.
I made myself a copy of what I should have been,And buried who I am so deep I couldn’t see — Underneath my pious rags and cries of…