There
nce
was a
Girl
This poem from my childhood still haunts me to this day — usually on a day when my hair refuses to behave. So I decided to reimagine what it might say if it were actually about me. From harsh self-critique to rising from the ashes, uncover my story in this graphic poem.
There once was a girl,
with a little curl,
right in the middle of her forehead
My skin is too pale,
My frame is too frail,
We're always our worst critics aren't we?
I’ve been called a fairy,
And quite contrary,
But I’m still waiting for wings to grow
From real estate law,
To learning to draw,
My interests run far and wide
From looks of confusion
To fights for inclusion
Often I'm asked, How do you do it?
With a slight of hand
A spell or command?
Am I a witch or maybe a bitch?
I've walked on fire,
Burned on a pyre,
And risen from the ashes of my life.
Pull back the curtain,
Read on, be certain,
You may find out what it cost me.
