I’ve reached peak womanhood;

I can cut myself bad bangs

and I’m free to not care what you say

even if it’s, “She’s deranged!” 

 

Free to smile, or free to not.

No longer do I sink

away from restraining gazes 

who’d prefer that I just shrink. 

 

At 29, I fight to protect

my ever-independent spirit.

I’m willfully choosing freedom,

and in every color, I’ll wear it.