Pebble on a String of Pearls
Comatose composure in the eyes
of all those who would hold me
to their unreachable standards
I am not what they wish me to be
There is no way to reach
the top shelf of expected propriety
In no means do I wish
to defy the constraints of good will
only the hopes of all
who have seen me grow
They want so much for me
all the things I could never gain
It is not me to be another’s poster maid
The catharsis is now
I could never be the trophy
of a royal family
It is not a sin to be just as I am,
A woman who wants to fly
Someone who hopes to help
The person that will be there for a friend
With the soul I have been given
I love all the same
I am and never will be
the victim of perceived elegance
If you have the time and care, thoughts would be welcome and appreciated…
Blessed Be, Siren
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