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.