if ani taught me one thing
(though she taught me many)
its that i am more than
and then some,
i am a whirpool
that sucks me dry.
i am my own disease
til my own mother tells me
i am disapearing.
i am all things good,
and worse
different if not
the same
i am the dim lighting in my bedroom
turning off my switch,
locking shut my door.
there i sat,
looking right at me
thinking
she is the reason
they are unhappy
she is the fault
in her tv screen
she is poor punctuation
in a poem unfinished.
she is that very tear
waiting to escape.
i have sung along
and understood
that i am puzzling
and infinite
in the girl i am.
i have listened
and waited
and danced
to find myself
(happy)