good girl

kindergarten
I was once in a workshop about broken people like me.
The grief counsellor said:
My story is my story.
And your story is your story.
And it is okay for them to be different.

People clutch their stories tightly, with white-knuckled hands.
Like purses stuffed with money in a late alley.

For instance, I have been told I should stay in my lane at all times.
Behave and be good. Do not be angry. Stay the rigid course.
And most of all be small in all ways.

If I step out of line, this rattles those who think they own the one story of me.
After I veer into my own way
Their horns honk loudly before they slowly fade away.

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