Fluorescent in a Fabricated World
Men strut like roosters; women reconstructed to a shifting standard of beauty and I sit among them, a fluorescent bulb in a dense, fabricated room, waiting.
Men strut like roosters; women reconstructed to a shifting standard of beauty and I sit among them, a fluorescent bulb in a dense, fabricated room, waiting.
In self-doubt’s coliseum, the battle is never with the world. It’s with the voice inside that says you aren’t ready.