Tangled


I’m tangled in the lengths of my own hair.

Uncertain about who I am becoming,

but, damned glad to no longer be a shadow

underlined by a whisper of sound.

I make noise now.

I curse like a sailor.

Stand and yell like a fire alarm.

Leap into the air.

Twirl in the grass.

Land in the graceless folds of my own arms

I drown myself in reams of startled laughter,

and stand like a crooked gate that’s been newly painted.

I’m tangled, but oddly satisfied.

Seems tangled is what I was always meant to be.

 

 

 

 

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