Last year, I was working on some “dream thing” – publishing a book (or an e-book, to start) sharing one particular journey of my life. I don’t know what really happened. Well, many months of writer’s block, maybe? Or just lame excuses? Or because I feel so alone, I didn’t know how this thing works? *laughs* Anyway, I am still not giving up on this “dream”. For now, I just wanted to share with you one part of that “dream thing”. Maybe, leave some thoughts, will ‘ya? It’ll be much appreciated. Super. Here it goes:
She turned into the sweetest nectar a buzzing bee could have ever sipped.
She blossomed into a captivating butterfly one wouldn’t love to put in captive.
She burst into an almost perfect bubble one wouldn’t want to burst.
She grew into a prominent tree adorned with fruits of hope and flowers of wit.
She soared high like eagles playing hide and seek in the skies.
Until someone picked that beautiful flower, pulling every part,
Because he loves me not.
Until someone touched that butterfly’s wings but carelessly thrown back to the air because a mother said it will poison her little girl’s eyes.
Until someone blew that bubble away, losing its shape and losing its way
because dude, you’re too old for that, let’s play ball instead.
Until someone envied her bounty and threw rocks at her that made her lose those hopes; slashed her that made her lose her poise;
because I am tired and I need to sit.
Until someone -silently watching her as she spread her wings- aimed her with a rifle, then pulled the trigger
because man, that one’s beast it deserves a place in your cabin.
Innocent as a newborn antelope looking for a lush to eat,
She blew those sixteen candles flamed with bruised wishes murmuring
nobody said turning sixteen would be this sweet.
– Jc Joyce