?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿ I was a good girl, gold-star, slow-start soul, Till a small sharp spark left a scorch mark hole. One weird word, one sideways stare, Now I side-eye mirrors like they owe me rent in there. If that one “whoops” never looped in my head, Would I be well-read, well-bred, well-led instead? Or a soft-spoken, slow-joke, sunflower type Who sips self-help tea and sleeps through the hype? But no… I’m quick-quip, slick-slip, lip-flip loud, Laugh too long, talk too proud. Trip on trauma, sprint through shame, Spell my name in glitter and blame. ?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿ Cause-and-effect, defect or direct? Did the crack make me clever or chronically complex? If that brick hadn’t hit my tiny glass throne, Would I be less “extra” or extra unknown? ?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿ What if that thing never swung my swing? Would I be a better me or a blander being? Would I glow more gold or just go with the flow? Would I grow more grace or grow more ego? Butterfly bruise, choose or lose, Did the sting give me wings or just loud tattoos? Better me? Wetter me? Sweater-vest saint? Or the same wild flame with less complaint? ?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿ Maybe I’d bake bread instead of overthink, Maybe I’d blink less pink when I’m on the brink. Maybe I’d date nice Dave from accounting school Instead of poetic disasters who juggle “I’m cool.” If it didn’t happen, would I nap more neat? No midnight monologues in the bathroom heat? No dramatic dances with a hairbrush mic, Just polite little claps and a sensible bike? But then… Would I joke this sharp? Would I spark this fast? Would I dodge my doubts with a double-back laugh? Would I build bold bones from broken bits, Or just knit quiet cardigans, counting my wits? ?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿ Tiny trauma, domino drama, Mama said “calm her,” I charmed her karma. Flip-flop fate in a paper-plate state, Was it love? Was it luck? Was it late? If I subtract that crack from the track of my past, Do I collapse or coast too fast? Was I shaped or scraped? Was I baked or faked? Was I made more brave or just over-awake? ?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿ What if that twist never bent my spine? Would I be more divine or just more in line? Less punchline princess, more peaceful pearl? Or a beige-page sage with a calmer curl? Butterfly bruise, truth or ruse, Did the ache remake me or just amuse? Better me? Wetter me? Sweeter disguise? Or the same loud laugh in softer eyes? ?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿ Maybe I’m chaos with clever hair, Maybe I’m careful because I care. Maybe the crack let the light sneak through, Maybe the mess is the best of me too. So here’s to the glitch in the perfect plan, I’m a “what-if woman” in a “why-not” clan. If it hadn’t happened, who’d I be? Better? Worse? …or just less me? ?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿-?-¿
