Poetry

Fuck! Her choices establish tragedies
The key that fosters felicity long since marred
But now she’s found the freedom she so passionately sought
It was gifted to her as a straight jacket
In the colour of her choice

Every evening she sleeps within such paraphernalia
As the solace pacifies her in classic tones

With the cushioning characterized as a mirror
Emulating the shape she has so flawlessly taken

Two years in the knapsack
And to your very eye I am the poster child
For used condoms and tampons
Am I not worth more than fish?