Madness

She held madness like a flower

Twirled chaos along her fingertips

Like a magic trick the world had never seen before

She moved as if she floated

On lost promises she kept from herself

Because she was bad at listening to white noise

It didn’t get her many places

 

She once sat forgotten in the crevasses of her circumstances

Nurtured by good intention and cocoa butter

She was reluctant to believe in the American dream

The fine print seemed like a foreign language

The details, too good to be true

 

Because she was born into a marathon

Ill-equipped, untrained, and poorly motivated

She was exhausted because the race was not hers

And the dream was made of fairytales

Free and constricted, she walked on egg shells and broken feathers

Juggling her worlds on borrowed time

She was both a thief and a king

 

So she held madness like a flower

Twirled chaos along her fingertips

Wore a mask and spoke a language that was not her first

Walked within a broken system that had no intention of fixing itself

She was often all of herself and none of herself

Navigating a new world many of her people had never seen

She was crazy, but crazy moves mountains