is age what defines her?
is it her sex? is it her body?
when she begins to assert?

come find me when you're weary
when hope seems all but lost
there's talk of mass mutiny
we'll meet under the clock

your freedom is a blessing
your spirit soars with the wind
each cloud a new beginning
your limit knows no end

That girl who grew up in a small town
She never thought she’d be here now
With all this life experience
And so much more to learn from it

was it ever as good as i thought that it was?
we had, what i thought, was the deepest of love
or was i the one carrying for the both of us?

i fucked it all up, just two decades of waiting
wrong time and wrong place, but i wouldn’t change it

my hands…they fumble, they bend, they feel....

Memories are elusive. They come and go seemingly by their own accord and sometimes fray at the edges, bordering on fiction as opposed to fact. Can we be ok with this reality?

How the hell do you figure out what you want to be when you grow up when you’re already entering mid-life?

It all begins with an idea.