Woe to the Child

Darkness.

There is nothing. 

There never has been something.

A worried mother clinging 

what she hopes is springing,

growing, sprouting,

light flashing, legs bashing:

born. 

Woe to the child who grows up naive.

For back then, my world was perceived 

on make-believe

adventures with thieves who fell to their knees 

when they saw the royal sock tied around my sleeve.

I was a princess.

Flash forward to the first day,

an array of sobs and "don't go away's"

A wooden desk, no child's play,

Run home to "It'll be okay," 

then do it again the next day.

I was alone.

High school comes, I make a few friends 

who lead me astray again and again

and I wonder what happened to little 'ol me

who looked at the world in curiosity.

I look to the sky with my head held high

and I ask the question, "Who am I?"

I am... deep.

Like the ocean, there is much of me undiscovered.

Year after year a piece is recovered from my watery depths.

I am... a dreamer. 

With a quest-conquering demeanor,

Boredom is meager,

ideas are keener,

which is why the knights had said, "Queen her!"

I am... different.

Different morals,

different thoughts than these girls around me 

who sip on iced tea and talk about how it would be 

to see Channing get on one knee.

I do not partake of that poisonous tree.

Coffee over cups of tea.

Always asking, "How did he?"

and crazy to the highest degree.

But that's okay.

I am... not done.

You see, the world is spinning,

the sun is rising and falling,

sparrows are calling.

Since I have been crawling 

I've been recalling them saying,

"Who will she be?" 

as they looked down on me.

I am deep,

but not lost at sea.

I am different,

in my family tree.

I'm a princess, 

A dreamer, 

a lonely child, a singer.

I am...

ever-growing,

Ever-changing,

Ever-green,

Me.

Praise to the child who grows up naive,

for she will grow up humbly.