If I died tomorrow, I

don't know if  I would be proud of who 

I am today.

[pause] Allow me, to explain,

we have been  told over and over again, 

that we should live freely within our constraints-

be who you are but do not wander to far.

I  cannot be proud of the person I see, if I am not wholly 

sure that she is me. [breathe]

She waits at the corner mart- again- in the pouring

rain, it is time to go home, 

no bother waiting for a message that will never come through. 

She is alone and not for the first time because  she simply wasn't

loud enough.  

But is she loud enough enough when she screams in her room,

the privacy she been grants from the world, where she curls upon herself and 

swears everything will be okay. Is she still too

quiet?

I try not to see that girl to often, but 

she's everywhere I go- not just in the  windows of

cars or bathroom mirrors-  She sometimes passes me in

halls at school.  [pause]

If I died tomorrow, I have to tell you

on last thing, I'm shedding that skin tonight,

because I died, I  want to anew. So I might become

the person I suppose to be all along. 

That girl at the corner mart- she still waiting

on a message that is floating a sea. And she will go

home sobbing, but no one can hear it seems.

But I do. She is screaming loud enough for me. 

               All she needs to do is break free.