Do more. Be more.
Be better.
But we’re never enough.
And too much.
We’re worthy
of love and of respect.
If only we could see it
in ourselves.
If only we believed it.
Instead, we hang onto old versions
of ourselves. We change our name,
our hair, our address. But we feel
our old self hiding in the back of the
closet, under the bed. And we
tell ourselves our old stories.
Do we ever really change?
learning to fly 