"I always thought that the first time I'd be on my knees I'd be praying..." I held my breath lowering myself to my knees in front of him,
"Then worship," he smirked, "what do you desire?"
Being loved by the king of Socrates Academy is haunting, espe...
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When I was five my father built a home, Patched and perfect from roof to floor, All was well and I couldn't complain But there was a crack in the ceiling.
At first, it didn't cross his mind to pay to fix something that wasn't worth a dime, I believed him because that's what kids do, Nod and smile and take the words of their parents as gospel truth I was told I was safe so long as I was under his roof But there was a crack in the ceiling.
When I was ten my mother looked me in the eye and told me my favourite dress was getting too short and I couldn't wear it anymore. She told me that people would get the wrong impression, And even while looking at my confused expression she snuck into my room and took it away.
I cried rivers that day.
As the crack in the ceiling grew just the same.
When I was thirteen and boys were mean Father told me I was asking for it, But how on earth could a child who was only just gaining her witts ask for such a thing? It was then I knew that the bitterness on their tongues would become the fire on mine, I wouldn't let them silence me and they'd suffer dearly for their crime-
The thievery of youth and innocence from your youngest daughter.
The crack on the ceiling grew like lightning as my childhood was taken to the slaughter.
My earliest memory takes place at emerging six.
No not five. I was emerging six as I was emerging everything. I wasn't a child but an emerging teenager, not average but emerging smart, not hopeless but emerging potential. Not alive but approaching death.
The hundreds of liquid globes reflecting the greens of nature create a sweet pattern on my skin when it rains. It's relief on this cold day, a sanctuary from the usual snow.
I glance down at my bright yellow Wellington boots as I grip tightly onto my black umbrella, my quick youthful feet leaving my mark in the mud. My hair is tangled like the thickets of thorns that entangle my heart, I am wilderness personified, I am unfiltered, I am an emerging storm.
