17 Years

Seventeen years hang around my neck, thick cinder blocks laced up with cotton string
Seventeen years brush around me, crisp sandpaper tarnishing a surface, disfiguring

Seventeen years is the making and breaking of my being 
Seventeen years is the conclusion of my cascade of internal screaming

Seventeen years have scarred my interior 
Seventeen years I have felt inferior

 Seventeen years is the revolution 
Seventeen years is my evolution

-Haylee R. Curry