Is she wise to remain perfectly untouched by time?
To disguise all the youth, stirring in her past, unloved?
She just wanted to escape
The appropriate lines that were drawn all around,
Stigma has a say,
She’s not a friend,
But who will ever tell…
Is she wise to denude all the sweet, forgotten wounds?
When the sun settles in for a story in a hammock of
Warm lulling dust,
Dimming the mind…
Turbid thoughts hustle in,
Anxious to undress,
Spend the night,
They all sing – she should leap, never to regret the fall.
Falls are funny things, in fact,
One can call it a flight,
Simply headed to earth…
She will not forget the life she breathed upon refusing rules…
So is she wise to deny the advice that reeks of norm?
Many voices, opaque, all convincing her loudly, but she’s