By Allison Stein
Too often, I filter my soul. In my quest for acceptance—my fight for exterior approval—I forget that conformity is not synonymous with happiness.
Poetry is a chance to step outside of this material world, to let go of superficial labels. Writing is an escape, an oasis. Words are my liberation.
My greatest dream is to write—to etch my heart on someone else’s. I want to create work that encapsulates the white-hot elixir of adrenaline, that reminds people to feel. I want readers to listen, but even more, I want them to be heard.
Writing means reaching out for a hand I can’t see, taking a trust fall. It means opening up the crevices of my spirit and letting strangers inside. It means being vulnerable, being honest. I have to feel: I have to unravel.
Unravel My soul is a tenuous branch braving wintertime, Snapping under the weight of expectations. I'm old enough now, they tell me, To fight my own fight, Yet I'm too young to know the chorus Of my own heartbeat. Each second splits into a new crossroads: Surrender or fight, Conceal or reveal, Defy or believe. I'm supposed to unearth answers— Tie my world together— When all I want Is to unfold this tapestry of good intentions, To let my heartstrings Unravel.