I Own My Witchery

Don't tell me to settle down,

to calm down,

to pipe down.

I'm soaring on wings

made of broken things

made whole by my anger

and I won't come down.

I won't back down.

I won't look down.

Tell me instead

that the high road

isn't always the right road

and I am unbowed

in the face of

the weight of

expectations

by the boatload,

bestowed

by people like you.

Or I'll tell myself.

That's better

than being a debtor

to your good will,

waiting for the poison pill,

the sleeping pill,

anything to escape

the misery,

the natural history

of your slippery

slope.

I own my witchery.