Sidelined, practically ignored,
Pathetically so.
That was her, growing up.
Or so she thought.
Always wanting in,
Waiting for acceptance,
Yet ironically
Willing invisibility,
When roving eyes and hands
Reached out, for her.
She grew up, too fast.
Took the choices made for her.
Questioned silently.
Protested voicelessly.
Till one day, that
Proverbial Knight arrived,
Sans armour.
He had lost his,
But the vulnerability
That he lay bare,
Became her sword.
Unlearning invisibility, neglect,
Unleashing her own
Pent up angst.
Mute no more.
She took that nervous
But firm, first step forward.
Held up her head,
High.
With honour.
The Knight had passed.
Leaving her the sword
She moulded,
From their shared vulnerability.
8 April, 2021, Day#8 of #napowrimo 2021
April 9, 2021 at 1:24 am
The Journey has sculpted the beauty.🤗
The work is progress looks wonderful.
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April 9, 2021 at 3:31 pm
‘Tween conflicting emotions, she was torn
To protect herself, too fast she’d grown
But armor — shining or not
A transformation, wrought
And the Wallflower bloomed and came into her own!
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