assemblin broken things

I like when other monsters
nod their heads
to the rhythm of my story
when they hear the thunder
   in my throat
and recognize my storm
I’ve numbered faces in the mirror
   countin backwards
til I found the one
who knew what it was to smile
without first checkin himself for wounds
somewhere along the way
I learned to speak in a language
made of scar tissue
to write pain into poetry
to find a harmony between hurt
    and healin
I learned to walk again
   with wings
   and chains
learned the steps to the dance
that allows for balance in breakin
I’ve begun to gather my fragments
and piece them together
into somethin that feels like home