What do I choose?
Picking up my sword,
going out in the world of flames?
Hurting myself, my friends and feelings
but winning the war together in the end.
Bleeding through the wounds of glory
and healing them with tears of hope.
Saving lives and fighting battles,
not just my own, but also of those whom I love.
Or do I choose to be the prettiest doll in the box?
Waiting for him to love me,
waiting for them to find me?
I think I know.
I'd rather bleed for a century
by cuts of courage,
and die holding the sabre of independence
and the crown of my smile;
than wait a decade
in the chains of luxury
And beauty of hoax.
~×~
Please vote and follow me on instagram for more poetry <33 ❤❤
YOU ARE READING
Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey