Food for thought

I was fed eggshells growing up

Now my tongue tip toes

Careful to select the words that will make others happy

It’s an acquired taste

But a first language for me

Each wrong word has always had it’s repercussions

Whether it was my grandma ridiculing me for having the wrong color as my favorite color

Or having some partner blow up on me

I am bleeding from all of the missteps

I am so used to this, I should no longer feel the pain

My clumsy tongue

I am about to say what the fuck I want

Then at least I don’t have to live in fear of saying the wrong thing

When it happens anyways

Yea, there’s a liberation in that

Owning: the fuck-up

Owning the fuck up.

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