Gentle

I try to be gentle with the girl inside me.

She is imperfect.

She hurts, and she hurts others

as she tries her best to be.

She thinks and she thinks,

and she doesn’t think enough

until something in the air breaks

and tells her,

‘Hush. Be kind to the one that matters most in your world.’

And so I try to listen to the air as it crackles.

And so I surrender

as I wait for my sunflower to bloom.