Lump

They said to me
Hands up
You are surrounded 
By brilliance
Talent
Beauty
I withered
Sank into my lumpy
Unsteady
Frenzied
Trauma

Moulds

Little girls with messy hair
Don't fit 
Little girls with loud voices
Don't fit
Little girls that grow up
Don't fit
Rage against the mould
Tear their hands off you
Grow up
Be loud
Stay messy
Shun the crowd

Grown Ups

I still don't know what I want to be
When I grow up
Not a teacher
Not a doctor
Not a mother
Not a wife
When I was little I knew I wanted
To be just like
James Brown

Dancing sins
Janis Joplin
Screaming blues
Salt 'n' Pepa
Throwing shade
Nowadays I just scribble
And scat away the hours between
The same old drivel
While I wait
To be a grown up

Spring

I should never think of spring
Springtime is lonelier
Even than winter
With its blooms
And its babies
And its blissful lovers
Cooing under virgin leaves

Cold

The world has seen fit
To make me cold
And I will burn you
With my frozen heart
 

Cousins

Every now and then
The mean reds take a hold
And I need reminding
I need cajoling 
I need a firm hand
And a soft melody
Formed from blood and laughter

Ice

Many coloured threads of you
Sing within me
Weaving the same old songs
Never unraveled
Despite my fire
And if I must be a tapestry
Let me be your creation
Of ancient ice