All my life, I have been second.
Second choice,
Second daughter,
Second fiddle.
It happened so often,
I began to treat myself like a second.
But now, all alone,
There is nothing to be second to,
Not even to the person I want to be.
For now, I see,
That I am not someones choice or option,
I am my own,
And I will put me first.
YOU ARE READING
Growing Out My Hair Again
PoetryA poetry book for people recovering from trauma, for survivors, lovers, and people who aren't sure about their place in the world.
