Measuring

I think I will always be
A little too much for some
Red wine on white silk
Startling and out of place

I think I will never be
Enough for some
Fading petals amongst full blooms
Never the right timing to have a place

I hope someday
I can explain the magic
Within my chest
The anger in my hands
The softness in my heart
The wildness in my soul
The roots in my feet

I doubt I’ll ever decide on a definition for myself
To many lines written on my skin
To make sense of the past
Or map the future
I’m riddled with contradictions
They don’t require understanding
They’re just me
Whether that’s too much
Or not enough

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