Warrior in Metaphor

I love writing in riddles, rhymes, and metaphors—there is something easy, something delicately beautiful about speaking my truth while keeping the hauntingly intricate details locked away.

It’s easier to say, “spilling shades of gray on my sunrise,” than “a bully projected their insecurities onto me in hopes I’d be just as miserable.”

It’s easier to say, “I wear armor fortified from pain,” than “the bruises on my mother’s skin made it hard to trust men.”

It’s easier to say, “the truth buried deep under layers of sand and rock,” than “I wasn’t believed in my sexual assault, and it hindered my voice.”

I love writing in riddles, rhymes, and metaphors. It allows me to share my life in ways that connect with some and cause contrition in others. My honesty is written into my stories, and the unapologetic discomfort some feel—I hope they look within and realize the unpleasantness is due to their own behavior. I hope they choose to change, to do better, to be better.

Maybe one day I’ll share each tiny detail that created the warrior in my bones. But for now, I’ll continue to write about everything that brings me joy and pain.

I’ll continue to share my story in riddles and rhymes—in abstract thought that sometimes flows and other times is an incoherent, chaotic embrace that only I understand.

Because it’s easier.

Because it’s freeing.

Because it’s my truth to share—however I choose.