Inside I am a warrior, a hero,

a woman who is feared but respected,

someone who knows everything and everyone.

You don’t know much about me, I’, mysteriously terse-

Maybe I have mafia connections, maybe it’s the mob.

I can kick you in the you-know-what with my hands tied behind my back,

my feet chained to cinderblocks.

But I’m not just a warrior,

remember?

I know everything, too, the right antidote to the poison coursing through your veins

(that I identified)

and I can build an ocean-proof raft with palm fronds,

start a fire in the rain,

fly an airplane while bullets whiz an inch past the wing.

Inside, I am in control, zen master,

you could try to catch me but I’m faster,

I snap my fingers and everyone around me jumps.

The way I walk, the way I talk,

it commands attention. Is she a celebrity?

Is she royalty?

Who is she? They whisper, in awe, but also fearfully,

because I look like someone who could take you down

(but also volunteers at orphanages & animal shelters

in my spare time).

This is who I am inside, the kind of girl you see in action movies,

who at first is scared

but she is faced with something that activates her powers.

I just don’t know what I need to do

or what my so-called powers would ever be.

And that not knowing how to be who I want to be,

and knowing that I’ll never be Wonder Woman

or the Black Widow

or even Harley Quinn

makes me not want to try to let myself go,

do something where I’ll prove myself

Because what would there be to prove?