finding serendiipitii

I do not fit the box we are given when we are growing up
it has been beaten from the inside far too much
the crumbling cardboard box doesn’t emulate the woman
that has evolved from my skin.

and there’s something in the way my hand rests on your arm
that makes you more aware of the white noise in your ears
and I have never been one to sit on the sidelines
heroes must rise to the top with their own two feet,

you ...