I’m bending backwards over myself

investing in something I am

that I want to be

when I am able.

I am like the little trees

the small growths and prickers

that arch near the ground

forwards and backwards

Xs and crosses layering the forest floor

aiming to be tall and sturdy

part of the bright canopy in summer

reaching the sky

but my nimble back curves

under the weight of ambition

shot up too fast, unsupported

so my feet are rooted

and my head meets the ground

as I attempt to grow

but I have just begun.



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