Untitled Poetry

These bars of dying ivy,
venomous snakes wound in chains,
bowing, breaking at my feet,
freeing me from the reins

the sands of time have fallen,
never to be reversed,
but the menagerie of cages,
now released from the ring master’s curse.

The strength to be a lion,
so you hear my mighty roar,
a slave to your imprisonment,
this woman is no more.

The terms of my enslavement,
bound by duty and by lace,
rewritten with mine own blood,
to end this farce of a chase.

I own tomorrow’s fortune
for I own my rights, my life
no longer am I but the hip
no longer am I wife.



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