I am stuck.
stranded between two planes
of expectations, pulled in
two directions. playing
with dolls, too old,
wearing lip gloss,
too young.
do I choose the
middle ground or the
playground.
YOU ARE READING
Sweet Enough
Poesíawe grow like fruits, until ripe and get plucked and discarded, if not sweet enough. *** a compilation of poems, thoughts and other reflections.
