She is not of this world,
borne of an entity and a place
where daggers and betrayal are commonplace,
inside her heart lies dainty ticking time-bombs.
In her world, featuring prominently, are those egos, egos,
ergonomic and plentiful,
potent in their intoxication,
and scents of creation,
fresh, tall and poplar,
she is not of our world,
she makes of it what she may.
Tombstones rise within her vision
creaking aching monuments applicable
to her alone,
familial ties lay beneath the soft sandy soil,
petite, concerning, but never do they overwhelm.
She comes from a world unlike ours,
she seems as free as the clouds,
though on the horizon
lies a promise,
a blood-red warning,
that soon, she must start running.
The unspoken have their own way of speaking,
deeming themselves relevant
on both ends of a spectrum,
highlighting what she will never say,
a deeply personal experience,
an explosive type of expression.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.
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