Many

There was a time, when the things I wrote
Could range into any place
Any fantasy
Any alternate reality
And I could push
My only worry was if my mother read them.
Gentle worries.

I’m so many more people now.
What will my children read in these words?
In these weaknesses?
In these fears?
In these mistakes?
In these passions?

Nichole M. Dulin

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