inadequacy

the clock strikes, and she is anew.

at 18, she has breached the threshold.

free as her hair in the wind.
not tied to anything,
or anyone.

she is unbound,
untethered.

limitless,
until she is not.

this act of blossoming
called womanhood,
it may hold a certain promise,

but instead is corroded
by unceasing insecurity and diminishment,
persistent since time immemorial.

she stretches herself thin.

“fit the mold”

but it’s exactly that,

malleable.

once she has conformed,
it is something else entirely.

how can she be anything?

if too much,
or not enough,
means that she is nothing.