I am here.
Unashamed of my crystalline skin –
that one can hear
the howl of blood through my veins.
I am here
– uncovered and exposed:
You can build a castle from my angst.
Weave a basket out of the lines from my painfully tightened fists.
Hang a tree swing from my illusions –
can you reach the branches?!
Laugh behind the back of my crippling grit.
Frame each of my misprints
and decorate the rooms for amusement…
But I am still here –
skin, gossamer as ever.
Each tiny vessel strangling a hill
stumbled over, yet summited.
I will continue to stick out, tall,