Roots by Cole Westervelt

My roots have always seemed unclear.
I have always made myself out to be someone hard to love
and rocked it with style and a grin.

What kind of woman perceives herself as difficult
and hones it, makes it her own?

The same kind of girl who has been put down
one too many times in her fragile youth.
The girl who has been left fighting for her identity,
the option, the choice to be unlovable.

If all I have is a man who decides on my joy,
who would I be,
if not someone who was uprooted?

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