You Do Not Know Who You Are Anymore.

For when the roles are gone and the mirror no longer knows how to answer.

If No One Had Spoken Your Name

For the person buried beneath everything you were taught to answer to.

For the self written over so many times that the first hand has almost disappeared.

For the days when every version of you speaks at once.

For the moment you stop asking the world for permission to belong to yourself.

One work. Every form it asks for.