My Voice, My Choice

Tue, 08/22/2017 - 15:45 -- Mirrar

A small voice from a flowered dress

“Will you listen to my tale?

What I have now to confess

Is not for those whose hearts are frail.”

A curious mind, the answer yes.

 

“My tale begins:”

 

My purpose was of love

Never ending, ever flowing.

Life given by a kiss above.

My spirit ever growing

My body never filling a glove.

 

Gone away, over the knoll

Wanting direction

Finding rejection

No will, no voice of my own.

Asking for my hand, a mole.

 

I shuddered, puttered along

Wallowing in sorrow

I found my flight to beyond

My wings, my swallow.

Both cornered, forging a bond.

 

Freedom, my choice, my life.

Riding the wind, my voice heard

Above the demanding strife

Above all else, my words:

“I will not be your wife”.

 

My advice to you, in trying times

Speak out, out, to the villains

Who mute your words, a crime.

I know you’re tired of the billions

Saying no, no new rhymes.

 

“But you’re ready to shine.”

 

Speaking faltered, heard no more,

Just an echo in my soul.

Leaving the relentless war

Thumbelina's words my goal.

I am ready to soar.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741