I was born an adult.
the tubes tied around my feet
holding me to stand.

I was never meant to crawl.
I grew like a tree-
never dead on the outside.

Ashamed of my insides.

but crying was for the girls next door-
jumping, smiling, giggling...
whispers from a keyhole.

I was always spying on them.
The ones who could see
the sandcastles
& rainbows.

But I was too busy
filling cannons with my emotions,
Hoping they would hit the moon.
Blocking love
with responsibility
using empathy as a mask.

Afraid,
I am still hiding in the tree trunk.

Waiting for the roots to let me go