Goo
I called me a worm.
A caterpillar.
I told me to molt.
Become someone different,
And unfamiliar.
Wrapped in a cocoon,
And turned into goo.
In a stage of growth,
And that can hurt the most,
But I’ll pry myself out.
Im something strange,
Something changed,
Less deranged,
But similar.
Still I just feel like goo.
A froglet to frog,
Larva to pupa,
Tadpole to toad.
Even termites show growth.
One day,
I’ll be fully grown.
So I’ll spread my wings,
Not,
Because I told me to.
Not,
Because I said I should.
Not,
Because I said I would.
But,
Because I’m ready to be shown.
For now though,
For now,
I have no issue,
Being goo.
Copyright © Devan Hanson | Year Posted 2026
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