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“I’m sorry for my shaky voice and racing heart, it’s hard to stay calm when you show me too much kindness for girls like me. Tell me words too soft. Touch me so gentle. I was raised fighting for a prize I was never allowed to win so when you served it to me on a silver platter I got confused. “I didn’t work for this? I didn’t have to crawl on my hands and knees through the desert. Fight with blood on my knuckles. What did I do to deserve this?” But God don’t let me destroy this. All I’ve ever held has been burnt to ash by the fire coming from my hands. Let me hold this gently and savor its taste on my lips. I was never raised to love tender so please do not send me to hell if I can’t do this right either. Have mercy on me for trying to be everything I was born not to be.”