In the hippie 90's a beautifully broken soul was born,
A cute,incessantly crying, chubby,queer baby,
Twenty four years later and she wants to be that baby again,
She wants to be loved and protected by the very people that brought her into this world,
She wants a pat on the back,a hug and she yearns for an I love you...heck!just a happy birthday from the human beings that claim to be your parents would suffice,
She has learnt that to bring a child into this world unplanned is the most selfish act,
She is twenty four going on fifty,
She is growing up waaaay too quickly,
Anxiety and crisis mode are beginning to feel like the norm,
In her twenty four years of life her twenty third had the most lessons,
She has learnt that strength and resilience are suits that have helped her survive,
But survival not being all too inspiring,
She wants to live for now, for today...
to breathe in the the crisp air today...
But this beautifully broken girl is stuck in the future past,
She has learnt to love self despite the chaos,
She has learnt that friendship is a word that is thrown around often meaning nothing,
She now knows that darkness all too well,
She feels it lurking in the shadows
That nagging feeling that death could be the easier way out,
That constant feeling of walking through fog,
No clear path in sight is her new normal...quarter life crisis they call it,
Unseeing the injustice, humiliation and otherness that women and queer folk are subjected to has become increasingly difficult,
Being a feminist in a world filled with male dogma is difficult,
She battles with self doubt but interestingly knows her worth only too well,
She now knows that love is not a feeling rather a deliberate choice to commit,
Lust is something that ignites her soul,
getting lost in a world where fantasy and reality collide,
Loyalty the only code she abides by,
Rejection her biggest fear,
Stifling the man in the arena,
The voice in her head being her worst nightmare,
Her worst critic and cheerleader rolled into one,
She loathes her sexuality because of lack of expression
She loves it because love is love is love,
She is better than she ever has been...
having experienced the worst that it could ever get...
Or at the very least hopes it can never get worse than her twenty third....
A cute,incessantly crying, chubby,queer baby,
Twenty four years later and she wants to be that baby again,
She wants to be loved and protected by the very people that brought her into this world,
She wants a pat on the back,a hug and she yearns for an I love you...heck!just a happy birthday from the human beings that claim to be your parents would suffice,
She has learnt that to bring a child into this world unplanned is the most selfish act,
She is twenty four going on fifty,
She is growing up waaaay too quickly,
Anxiety and crisis mode are beginning to feel like the norm,
In her twenty four years of life her twenty third had the most lessons,
She has learnt that strength and resilience are suits that have helped her survive,
But survival not being all too inspiring,
She wants to live for now, for today...
to breathe in the the crisp air today...
But this beautifully broken girl is stuck in the future past,
She has learnt to love self despite the chaos,
She has learnt that friendship is a word that is thrown around often meaning nothing,
She now knows that darkness all too well,
She feels it lurking in the shadows
That nagging feeling that death could be the easier way out,
That constant feeling of walking through fog,
No clear path in sight is her new normal...quarter life crisis they call it,
Unseeing the injustice, humiliation and otherness that women and queer folk are subjected to has become increasingly difficult,
Being a feminist in a world filled with male dogma is difficult,
She battles with self doubt but interestingly knows her worth only too well,
She now knows that love is not a feeling rather a deliberate choice to commit,
Lust is something that ignites her soul,
getting lost in a world where fantasy and reality collide,
Loyalty the only code she abides by,
Rejection her biggest fear,
Stifling the man in the arena,
The voice in her head being her worst nightmare,
Her worst critic and cheerleader rolled into one,
She loathes her sexuality because of lack of expression
She loves it because love is love is love,
She is better than she ever has been...
having experienced the worst that it could ever get...
Or at the very least hopes it can never get worse than her twenty third....
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