I
am a woman entangled by shadows of who I once was,
who
I no longer choose to be,
cannot be,
and
who I always will be.
I often feel a weight on my shoulders
hovering too close for comfort.
It clings on to me, wrapping its limbs
around my every fiber.
If
I stand straight enough, head held high with confidence,
perhaps
that curled figure will release its grip and topple over,
becoming
only a strange, distant memory.
A
pre-existing notion that I’ve let go.
I
must first find my misplaced head though, as it’s wandered off again
into
another world where such peculiarities do not exist.
I
want to accept the reality of my vehement shadows, for they are what make me whole. Comprised of different shades, desires, and curiosities, they form the complex,
wild, and inspired woman before you.
I have weight and I am not ashamed.
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