A poem written in 9 minutes at 12 am

Increasingly,

I am noticing that older people are not masters

As a small child, I thought ten-year-olds were all that

As a medium child, I thought teens were all that

As a large child, I thought twenty-year-olds were all that

Well, now I am twenty

And I am beginning to wonder how many times

I am going to need to realize that being a certain age

Doesn’t mean you have your shit in a row or ducks together

Before I believe it

But then, there is a scarier implication

It is not guaranteed I will ever feel

Complete, whole, cohesive, womanly

I still refuse to call myself a woman

Is that weird?