Stuck.

I’m stuck in a muck.
I call this feeling stuck.
I find myself lost in its jaws.
I’m crumbling to be free from these paws.
A bite, a scratch, or another physical pain.
Nothing on the outside can harm my “main.”

My main is my being, my sense of self and my goal.
The self is lost alongside years, even with stoles.
I’m a mummy out of captivity dying to be free.
I’m a butterfly, a rabbit, and a squirrel climbing a tree.

I’m stuck, but am I really lost?
I know who I am, but at what cost?
What cost of life, what cost to live?
Must this queen truly feel free to give.

I’m a warrior fighting for a sense of self.
I’m a child, mother, saint, and I need help.

I’m stuck, but am I really lost? No.
I’m stuck at this odds in my head where navigating this sole identity has been harder than ever. My gender, sexual, spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical being are all being pivoted against each other. There is this clash between the conglomerate of my experiences that brings me to observe the way that I’m lost. I’m lost in that I have no motivation for academics, but are academics helpful? Academics are what makes me feel grounded, but when i’m not grounded whats keeping me in suspension?

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