Commence

My smile is hidden in concern.

My words are trapped in all the worry.

They have received all the glory for my talents and my song.

Poverty tickles my toes and brushes my hair.

They all scream, "they don't care" for a poor delicate soul.

If I could go anywhere, I would fly to new beginnings, where my nails wouldn't be dirty and my head could stop the spinning. 

I taste the sand and the fruits of an isolated island, where my ears could have pearls and my neck could have diamonds.

My vision has turned hazy and my scream has lost its tone.

Where is the help? 

Where is the sun?

Have they all gone missing? 

One day I'll tell my children the story of a girl,

She grew up without forgiveness,

She grew up without much love,

 But she was courageous and strong.

She was ambitious and bold,

And from the sand and the dust she help build her castle walls.