Boxed In

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My eyes are rheumy

My heart’s gloomy

Everything poses a question

Why do they tell you what’s best for you

And box your wants in a prison.

 

“What do you hope?”

“Let go of the rope.”

“Get out, find your passion!”

“You won’t know until you go.”

But there is always a condition.

 

“Do what is ‘right’.”

“Come back on time.”

“Get your grades in order!”

There are no answers that they might have

There is only confusion.

 

 

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surface

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you look me up and down

smirk, snort, frown

wonder why my laugh’s so loud

i am awkward, i‘m fussy

i am confused, i‘m messy

i throw a fit, i slouch

but you just look, not watch

you see, you don’t peek inside

i‘m just a girl on a ride

in the jungle gym of life

 

*a vulnerable rant

 

Possibility

7

Every day she hiked up to her favorite spot, twining about the chartreuse green path she knew so well as a child. There she dreamed about all the things she wanted to be. There she waited till the swollen red Sun dived between the hills just like it did in the waves of the sea, in her dreams, that she wished to cross one day. There she lay on her back, staring at the leaden sky that she craved to light up with a million stars one day. There she yodeled, escaping the yokes of a cruel society. There she read her books, and played noughts-and-crosses, always winning against her own self that deviously thwarted her. For a while she forgot the way to her sanctum, only to return one day—to a sky clear and solitary, and a day full of possibility.