Tell me; or rather, tell her.
How is her right so wrong for them?

She could pretend just for the sake of imagined obligations,
To have forgotten the taste of emotional subjugation.
She could sing of the smiles and ignore all the tears,
Picking and choosing her way through the years.


Her heart is a lion, and her mind is a beast,
The ways they choose most are the days she choose least.
They hold on to the pictures of her that they like,
While the reflections of sorrow are drawn where she writes.

But NO familial ties are stronger than truth,
And no flooded basements are seen from the roof.

So I hope she takes what they gave her,
And let them spread words of her ‘crime’.
For she has broken her own ground;
For she is currently standing outside of time.

And they should make fast of their lines, and sink their anchor low,
For they will never see her where she needs to go.

No, she has no hard feelings,
And no bitter grudge.

For her life is her own,
And not theirs to judge.



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