i needed to be
the petulant child,
kicking and fighting,
angry and crying,
the one I swore
I’d never become
I’ve grown up all crooked,
a tall child of
stretched skin,
stacked bones,
and a suit,
scared to do anything but smile,
dressing the wounds by night
now I’m small again,
small and scared,
but glad my skin accepts me,
and hoping for the day
i’ll grow up.