The secondborn, spiritual queen
What I thought would make me whole
Made me weaker in reality
Raised to praise
Worship a man
And do good deeds
I followed your lead
with no question
And found I was walking in the wrong direction
Analyzed, speculated, bothered
Why was my growth stunted?
My base and foundation cracked and corrupted.
To flow, fly free
Of the chains holding
The little girl that lives
Inside of me
No longer do I want
A life built around instruction .
I want my freedom, with
No interruption or discussion .
About the Creator
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Our Song
Evening has given way to night. Gently, I settle next to you on the comfortable, old love seat and reach for your hand. You snatch it away, again. It cuts me to the quick, but I hide the pain, understanding that the reaction is but part of your demented state. Since the accident, your presence here in our cozy home has been clouded by a haze I can't see. Nevertheless, I feel the frigidity of your expressions and it serves as an excruciating reminder of the immeasurable distance between us.
By Dana Crandell4 days ago in Fiction
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