Me and My Cage
alone and traumatized before labor began,
taken and isolated alone in an incubator afterbirth.
no problems keeping warm in there, though, which grows to be what i miss most.
smaller than a baby, nearly too small to go on,
tiny me charged on through obstacles just to witness violence amiss.
fortunately, however, that little, small, baby remained untouched,
unbrutalized, until the ripe age of three.
the innocence was sheltered, protected, and cherished,
until it weighed less than the convenience of lies.
told stories about christ turning water to wine and dying for sins of some who are worthy,
but learned a bit too late that god wasn't to be spoken for.
never did i picture the cage being opened,
but because of how loudly and desperately i pleaded,
the cage told me secrets that even you might have needed.
Gracefully Written 