Spinning and spinning,
round and round.
It’s “have it all,”
The Secret and “expansiveness.”
I’m angry, but they say I’m so sweet.
“Cute.” They tell me.
“That’s cute” became my favorite insult.
I’m a broken girl afraid to be the queen.
(Only sometimes, though.)
I dream of flying while I dig holes in the ground. Reading about witches and learning to love my sweet ego for all that it is. (She protects me, you know? She doesn’t mean to be trouble, so I thank her for her effort.)
I am free.
Free to build my own traps day in and day end.
I am free to choose joy again.
Jaw clenched, teeth grinding at the words they’ve put in my mind.
What is surrender, anyway?
I dream of flying, but some days I merely fall back into the trenches of the past. I guess that’s what autumn’s meant for.