Still Me

Hey. You said I'm too much like it's some kind of crime.

So I folded myself smaller till I almost flat-lined. Kept count on

my questions. Bit holes in my tongue. You called it peace and quiet.

I called it coming undone. But I burned that script, threw the pieces

in the sink. Watched the paper curl while I learned to think.

I was never too much. You were always too little.

Tried to shrink me down to fit inside your riddle. Now I'm loud,

I'm alive, and I love what you fear in me. Two