Deep Breath

The bag sits on my shoulder neat,

The dress flows around my willowy silhouette pretty,

My hair in an uptight ponytail sleek.

I look in the mirror, my breathing still heavy.

It rained down on me again today,

Fluttery heart and jittery veins.

Incoherent words and giddy sight;

Savaging my dignity and pride.

But I have promises to keep,

To the six year old me,

Warrior Princess, nothing less.

I breath to my stomach,

Like the wise man said.

In and out,

Until it breaks the rut.

My head is still heavy

My shoulders stout,

Fifteen more of these raspy sounds

And I should be fine for now.

It has been a while,

Sitting at the table;

Unable to wonder

What it is,

The humongous files,

Or my insufferable self.