I’m in my twenties now
all those years
spent trying to make me someone
finally count
cars, mansions, a name—
tell me
why do I still miss
being no one?
oh mama
that young girl in you
who danced so fiercely
she lives in me now
and I wonder—
should I kill her again
just to be someone?
or was she
the only version of me
that was ever free
daddy said
don’t be a fool
stay focused
make yourself into something
and I did
I chased the cars
the mansions
the promise of a name
but what if
the cost of becoming someone
was losing the only self
I ever had?
what if
all those years
weren’t building me—
but burying me?