Should've been born a tap-dancer

Maybe that would justify the way

My foot beats incessantly at any solid surface

But that wouldn't explain my hands

Fingers fumbling around themselves

A false attempt at grabbing onto something

Something that will keep them from imitating earthquakes


Most of the time

It's not about grades

It's not about money

It's about having two hours between classes where I am left with myself

And every lost doubt I've ever had

Am I being myself today?

Well, am I already registering as a 7.5 on the Richter scale?


Something soothes tsunamis of unwarranted worries

Something cooler than volcanic panic attacks

And warmer than the aftermath


FEMA's not always enough


What I need is the one who stands, arms breached against the walls of the hurricane

And tells me I am not a natural disaster

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