Too much

To challenge the scope of our perceived limits

A morning ritual

So many women

Know so well:

Am I too much?

My mind

A swinging pendulum:

Walking up the escalator

Instead of waiting

Wearing color

Instead of black

Or wearing black

Instead of color

Or quick-witted

Instead of quiet

The internal monologue

Balancing

Juggling

External dialogue

Hearing my friends

Ask the same

Am I too much?

No.

Never.

Not possible.

Nope.

Impossible.

You?

You're just enough

The box

You've been asked

To breathe in

Is simply too small

In such small confines

Oxygen deprives

The essence of

You

Can't be

Confined

By a period

Rather a comma,

For wonders of myriad

Am I too much?

Why are there

Confined-limit-lines

Of which to begin

Instead of

Larger than life

Maybe the world

Is simply too small

Am I too much?

Perhaps

But then

Let's change

The planet, galaxy, universe

Which we confine ourselves in