two ninety-seven.

sparkling soul.

mundane and doomed.
they tagged your soul with
adjectives that mirrored the
grim reaper, with his cowardice,
black and daunting robe - they tried
to match your soul with his existence ---

you remained persistent, in your race and your
claim to realness.  to claim the name you
undoubtedly identified with, how your soul should be
characterized - you fought for that title.

you refused to back down and bow down to
doom, because light exudes from your inside
from the inside of your soul, the soul they attempted
to steal and seal in the palm of their hands.

but you were so damned persistent and you resisted!
you almost fainted, but you balled up those tears and
turned them into a gas that pushed you and kept you
and lifted you and met you where you were striving to be -

in the midst of a peace that was unattainable amongst
a crowd that lived to see you down - you made it.

and at this point, you inch to turn around
no longer wincing, but boldly standing
and staring and peering into the memories
that once ruled your body and tagged you
such unfitting descriptions -

and you listen, and you whisper to yourself,
"i'm new.  it's through.  i'm fearless.  this, this is it."