Yes, there is a vision board on my wall
While there are many body types I see, I still fall
Grey scissors have cut through figures in zines
I wonder if the world even sees me
I know that I write in thick red lines
I curve my fountain pen until it dries
I thought about how I wasn't writing enough gold
Maybe my writing will grow stale, so very old
At one point, self doubt consumed me
There is no way I can make myself into clay
To mold, to change, to be different from yesterday
From my fingertips, I am leaking silver
It is a color that shines on shoes and on mirrors
I know that I have improved from my mistakes
It is hard to revel in my own poor takes
The way that my hair falls down, black as night
I hold onto my ancestral image with all my might
So, I have ignited a change in how I look at myself
It is okay to be loved by you alone
Not one person can be a savior, you know
I feel that even if I am strange, frazzled, and bent
I can still love the way that I am
My white brain waves are heaven sent
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