𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

she isn't much to look at;

her hair hangs loose around her head,

her white skirts billow in the breeze around her frail frame.

it's clear she's been through hell,

but she's still standing.


she looks up from her hands,

the same ones shaking,

and gazes at all the eyes on her.

they are waiting, expectant-

they were promised something beautiful.


she knows she has to speak,

speak about all the heartbreak she's suffered.

but the words tremble on the tip of her tongue,

dancing around each other.

they want something-

freedom. 

and she is the only one who can give it to them,

to herself.


and so,

she speaks.



𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞,,  poetryWhere stories live. Discover now