I grew up a paper doll child,
something to dress in hand me downs,
and ignore if my tears got too loud.
Nobody noticed they were planting rebellion,
tilling insomnia, or trying to put me in boxes
too small for my imagination to breathe.
There wasn’t anything vague about being ignored,
no excuses of being too busy, just a front door
that pushed me out to seek solace in wild things
that grew outside windows that winked with dust.
It was tough trying to balance secrets and threats
when my ears rang with a voice whispering,
“It will always be your fault.”
©Susie Clevenger 2024
I actually wrote two poem for Shay's Word Garden Word List.
The second one is from my Twila Series on my blog Susie's Sentences.
