Hey you, the torn one. The shredded one, glowing in your tattered form. Yes, you. The broken and bruised. I see you.
I want you to take your sad, bereaved heart, throbbing cadence with your soul, and I want you to grow. Grow it into an angry flame, burning, yearning and birth yourself anew.
I want you to rise from these unbalanced ashes like the badass, bitchin' she-devil, motherfuckin' Phoenix you are and take this life by its horns as though you own every damn corner of this town, state, and province of vicinity. Rise for me.
Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.