Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash
A poem fueled with indignation
I feel judged by the lot
when I am trying to be more.
More of myself.
More of the woman I left
behind when I was surviving,
and I didn’t have time for thriving.
But now I do.
I revise my behaviour and my childhood
and I find terrible things,
but sometimes, I also find it.
My authenticity.
So why do they judge me?
For trying to be free
or for doing it differently?
I really don’t care.
I don’t have any more time to spare
on people who never say:
Hey, your priority is your mental health.
Support the author and get the latest publications subscribing to:
Look at her latest book 📕, En Brandán