A poem by junior Nya Hodge, discovering herself and true identity.
what are you thankful for?
liberation in my self identity.
a poem by nya hodge.
my thoughts live in a house where the doors are locked and the shudders groan when it rains. if someone knocks, i wither into a lesser me, a wearier me. because strangers can’t come into my locked house, not without forced entry. like the crowbar bearing boys that pry their crooked fingers into the bolted shut tidbits i keep to myself. there’s a sign somewhere on the lawn that says no trespassing but thieves don’t pay mind to the fine print. so they steal my words, my feelings, my lackluster version of love. things that once i too thought belonged to them. these boys who i know longer know are strangers. and i’ve fled from them in my house with the locked doors and the groaning shudders and the me that’s the most me.