my rights are in a chokehold,

gasping for the air they once were able to breathe in deep.

the air that made them feel so free,

like a bird in the great open sky,

or a puppy full of sweet little dreams.

your trauma is valid even if,

you cannot remember it properly.

your trauma is valid even if,

it has been years since it has happened.

your trauma is valid even if,

every little star in the dusky night sky,

has a story that collects together.

i hold the stars in my hands,

and count them one by one,

watching the stories unravel.

some stars poke me and leave scars,