UNTITLED #94

I am the latchkey

I am a bandaid on the crack of a sidewalk

I am the stutter in an improv show

I am the uncertainty of I...Um...uh...

I am the “salt to taste” instructions on a boxed meal you’ve already thrown away

I am the unknown and the unlikely

I am a currently nameless writer born of the “we are sorry to inform you” generation

I am frustration, I am entitlement

I am the hard earned trophies gathering dust in my fathers office

I am the lost, the angry

I am a “no matter what” longing to be “look ma, I made it”

I am a “too much”

Being told “not enough”

When I long to be simply “I”