Messages in the Restroom

Staring at the wall, black ink spills wild,

'You are enough, even when you’re lost,' a child.

Waiting for my friend, I trace each line,

a small rebellion scrawled, a spark divine.

In a place where whispers linger, secrets weave,

it’s more than graffiti; it’s a reason to believe.

A fleeting glance at truth, in a sterile stall,

reminding me I’m whole, even when I fall.