Posted in Musings

Unfreedom

I am bound by walls  and chained by prejudices of my own making.

The weight upon my wings is not a storm but a sigh; the blemish on my face not a scar but a tear that I refuse to wipe away.

I pull a shroud upon my features and hide from the sun, not knowing that the fire I fear is burning me from within. That the hot breaths scald not my skin but my soul.

I search for paths, riddled ways away from home and yet cower in the shadows when the winds whistles to say it’s time. Never ready. Not now, not ever – for I am not a girl yet to come of age and learn of the world but a woman who makes a mockery of herself hailing change and recklessness and that touch of infinity on the sly, and still end up yearning for approval and compassion.

I reach for the skies and fall to ground.

No, I am not free.

For I refuse to be.

Author:

A wayward thinker hiding behind the facade of necessary courtesies

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