Adept

Hiding was something I remained good at For years afterwards, I would hide From the things that I feared And from the things that feared me

My spirit was on lockdown, and I Kept the parts of myself hidden That I was terrified the world would see

But truth is a flower that takes root quite well In the darkest of places, and with the Virtue of patience it waits for The gleam of someone's eye To make it bloom

You cannot smother my truth without my consent

And you Quite plainly No longer Have my

Consent