Catching a Flower

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Talking about you is throwing my life away. Funny thing is I'm captured by you. They want to dismantle all your works and ways and I'm their key. Why I dont betray you is beyond my wonder. 

Maybe Im holding on to something. That rope you spoke about. The one that we had to grab when presented in front of us. As slippery as it seemed. Take risks you said. I thought it stupid. Now I contemplate the idea everyday. My head knows what the rope is but it won't tell me for I have no clue as to what it is. Confusing right? One of the things you hated about me.

You would say I was manupulative and cunning. That my eyes told they would do something outrages. Something reckless like the dumb girl I am. That it would be good enough for stories. Well this is this is the story I'm writing. Im doing so in a cell. Thanks to you. This place encourages wrong thoughts that I reject with little enthusiasm. 

Know that my hands no longer work in rhythm but in cold non wasted gestures and bitter movements. The hairs in my head dont shine and partner with the wind to dance like before. My eyes dont tell brave stories. They sing sad songs.