CW- BUT please be nice..please dont be insensitive..and if that isnt possible..just dont respond...please ..i repeat, be nice.
They've told stories..of heroic escapes..
The young hero with binded hands...who somehow got free
He returned home , to the arms of his loving family
"Oh we've missed you so much".
Stories theyve told, of the young maiden...
who was trapped in a castle, and soon saved by the prince
the thorns became flowers
the rain became dew.
But.
where..do you go..when the hands that bind you, are the ones that birthed you
when the seed that planted you...strikes and mocks you
When your mouth is sewn shut, because of what is love.is pain as well
Do you grow up and become a flower
Do you turn of age and shine like dew upon grass
Do nightmares disappear and become sunlit mornings
Does God suddenly appear, and say "Ive missed you".
No.
thorns bite me
lips rip me
love has hardened into an iron shell
and my breath has given up into a sigh
Escape, where?
is the fate of my death
hell....
punishment...
and love.
~O.r