a subtle call for savior

she knew she was in trouble, distinctly not-okay,

when, ambushed by thought,

she fell on her face, on a chilled and sunny day.

a sure shock of truth, pit-squirm in the gut,

a vanquishing of every feeble if , when or but.

she’d begun to find too much poetry in the violence,

scrawl of language in every black and blue mark and scar,

the ways she strained to fold into the silence,

the ways she feared being alone, with her mind left ajar.

and talking too, it lent a new terror, for risk of what may escape-

sick of her story, lost in her lies, she’s an absence in human shape.

So, you can come out now, come out now and save her,

she’s tittering on the brink between rebirth and surrender,

a rawness to her lips, her shoulders weighed down and weary

and, will you open your eyes, will you dare to see her?

she’s shuffling on the edge, a-flutter like a frightened fairy-

her body’s a bruise, her head is a mess, there’s a beast inside her home!


the sure strength to your hands, is a truth that she has never yet known,

and the lovely lull of your mind, is a beauty she has never yet been shown.














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