Who is going to love this butterfly with the broken wing?
Is anyone going to standby when she can fly again?
What would it feel like to be totally obscure?
To dodge everyone she once knew?
What if I can’t pay rent, car insurance, gas?
What if I get sick without any cash?
How are her mother’s friends thinking about that ‘golden child’ now?
Is there any universe in which her back no longer hurts?
Can’t eat most “foods”, so someday she’ll starve...
Better bulk up ... but then she looks too large
2020 the year of fears
Someday she’ll be happy
She grew through hers
About the Creator
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More stories from Stanzi Hope Wellington and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Vagabond’s Song
“Been talked out out loud, for millennia...” “Babe I’ll be, blinded by enemies...” The mysterious traveler sings quietly to herself “it’s the underground...” She rounds a corner onto an antiquated canal bridge, polka dot umbrella swinging in one hand, little black book tucked under the other.
By Stanzi Hope Wellington5 years ago in Humans
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