I’m sorry.
Such simple words.
But I’ll never hear them from you.
You say you’re proud but
Not apologizing is nothing
To be proud of,
Being stubborn and harsh
I nothing to gloat over.
I know I’ll never hear those words
From you, I’m not even sure
You know how to feel them
Or what they mean to others or
Even your own well being,
So I’ll just go my own way
And leave you with your foolish pride.
A pale face, dark eyes, an uneasy smile,
Surrounded by a mass of tangly black curls,
She sat in that circle
Unengaged, aloof, disruptive,
There for everyone else’s sake
But her own.
Trapped in a world by demons who
Would let her see another way
But kept her from it because
It wouldn’t serve their obsessive needs.
Within screaming distance but held behind thick glass,
Visible but achingly unreachable.
And now she appears, life
Shining from her eyes.
A purpose in her movement
An energy no longer nervous or restrained.
An arrogant addiction now replaced
By an enthusiastic vulnerability.
The tangle of curls now worn up
To frame a new maturity.
She sits in the circle for her own sake now
Proving to everyone else that she is worthy,
Meeting life bravely while hearts around her
Now swell with inspiration.