Don’t demonise me, I’ve lived and breathed my stone age, don’t victimise me, I have lasted longer than expected. Don’t terrorise me, my existence is not a myth, I was spoken of in tones so hissed, cackling, laughing, I need not confess anything to ancient, solemn priest. Annihilate me, in sweet moments in which you became aware that I am whole, I embody something so right, engage me, elicit sparks and embers, but don’t demonise me, I am broken no more. I have been stitched back into place, the pieces of me, broken limbs, cast aside, splayed, careless display, so easy, a worthless entity frowned upon, eyes lowered, shame, I have none, I shall prohibit the unlikely future fall, no, I shall rise as though upon wings of a phoenix, mythological and perfect, I’ll treasure certain moments, I shall set them in stone. Christ knows of my ages, my bronze, iron, gold, each milestone, each era, paint that perfect picture of a demon woman with no true, loyal soldiers, I do not come from darkened land nor shore, I trail loose sand grains from a paradise of folklore, my dress, my train drags, I catch some more. And view upon me now from yonder, I have arisen, from the depths of sorrow, capture yet my presence, dare ye bother? I am free, and this open heart proclaims, what’s in a name? Recall me freshly, memories positive, negative ions cancelled, no predicaments to envisage, none, naught the same, nothing to it, no one to blame. © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay
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Very good….. And very appropriate picture
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Thank you, Don 🙂 Glad you enjoyed it!
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