I run with the rough and tumble.
Misfits, mighty and bold.
Scraggle cheek, wrinkle feet.
I walk with the rough and tumble.
Those who've licked streets
and chipped teeth on curbs.
Sometimes not their own.
I frolic with the rough and tumble.
They protect their fold.
Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.