as she crawls from the hole she fell into long ago, light blinds her tired eyes.
a new awakening of energy and inspiration floods her senses, but with something a tad sinister.
she is back.
her fingers dig into the earth so she can pull herself up again.
and they are all there, surrounding, prying eyes, waiting for her.
obliviously, one holds out their shaky hand and she takes it like it has always belonged to her.
she is lifted.
she is back.
and she is coming for you.
r.k.
YOU ARE READING
Meathead Monologue
PoetryI wanted everyone and everything; all the time and all at once. [volume ii] [poetry and prose] [2017-2019]
