This is a poem about being someone who the world built hard and unforgiving, and how that can exist alongside being compassionate and good.
i was born with magic in my soul
it flows with the blood in my veins, reaching every soft curve of my body, every hard corner
it’s built in the foundation of my flesh, curving, twisting, tying itself throughout my body in such a way that if you were to cut me open you would see it’s illecebrous knots have wrapped around my every bone like roses on a trellis, shining with ethereal light that blinds those who look upon them for too long
i was born with fire in my heart
a longing to fight for my belief even if i am the only one standing
even if i am the only one screaming
a passion that beats on relentlessly even when i cannot
i was born with a storm in my abdomen, swelling and crashing like waves on a beach or rich thunder in darkened clouds of smoke
seething and writhing and screaming, begging for attention, begging to escape, begging to wash over the world and end it
i was born with flowers in my head
buttercups in my eyes
roses in my mouth
dogbane in my hair
beautiful, delicate plants
with a painful bite and a bitter taste
i was born to be broken
and the pieces were made to improperly rearrange themselves into a natural disaster
beautiful
and destructive
