Never good enough. Never enough.

Always behind. Broken. Wrong.

Different.

Different!

How did I become different. What is different?

That label affixes itself to me like glue.

Why?

I get the call, thank you, no thank you.

You aren’t good enough.

Who makes that standard. Who makes enough. Or good, even.

What if I’m more than enough. What if im bad?

What if I’d rather be bad? More than enough bad. Sounds good to me.

Reverse the narrative. Set the rules

I won’t play on your playground anymore. I won’t live by your rules.

They aren’t real.

Set by nature, yes. But real? No.

An indistinct line drawn in the sand. It can be washed away by water. By time. By winds and rain.

Will I ever be good enough?

No.

Is that what I want? I thought so.

But now I see value in not enough. In more than enough.

It doesn’t hurt less. Yet. But it will. Once I shed these wasted tears and step out into my new skin.

Mottled and hard. The touch of a dragon, the color of a raven.

What’s inside is dangerous and bold. Strong. Scary. And scared. Creative and beautiful.

But good? No. Certainly not good.

Never again

This is not a poem.

The end.

LR_2018