life

Light on her feet,

quick with her tongue

The young girl can’t be beat;

Innocence keeps her young.

Gold in her hair,

Bright sparks in her eyes,

Life is so perfect there,

Why believe the lies?

“Your chest - too small,”

“Your shorts - too short.”

From felicity she will fall,

From perfection she will distort.

She was only thirteen, when she was told

That what’s in between is more sought after than any amount of gold.

Now she’s sixteen

and she’s become unseen.

But she strives for attention

in which is the dream.

But no one had told her

the man four years older

is not her soulmate

but just preferred a trait.

She thought defiance was cool,

chose the wrong friends,

whiskey and choking on smoke were a healing tool,

no visible means to an end.

Sixteen is when she learned

her reputation has been tattered, run ragged, and burned.

Now she’s eighteen

and she’s dropped all her friends.

She can’t stand fake personas,

she’s just glad high school ends.

But now she’s alone,

she can barely cope.

She’s been forced to find herself,

shadow work with small hope.

Now here she is –

twenty-two has brought much.

Found love from within,

and in a boyfriend and such.

But she will think back from time to time,

and remember when he had said “what’s yours is mine,”

but take back that power

profoundly relive trauma every hour

in the name of healing.

Growth takes its time,

self-love does as well.

That girl at thirteen naïve in her prime,

Now older and wiser and raising all hell.

Mother may call me a sinner,

but I realize I’ve found harmony – I’d call that a winner.

a.e.w.