He made a witch
Out of that girl
& society
Scrambled with pitch forks
And fire
She hid
Ashamed
Whilst her autobiography;
Her words
Were being inked
By a man who
Was certainly not her
Writing words
Which were definitely
Not hers
& when they arrived at her door
With gasoline, lighters
Black tar
And ropes to bind her hands
They couldn't wrap their minds
Around the shock
That the fire
Caressed, held & loved her
Having already known
All along
It belonged
& had a home
Inside her
YOU ARE READING
Brave Not Perfect- Formally: I'm No Perfect Poet.
PoetryDarling, to be Perfect Is simply not real. True tellings of domestic abuse in poetical form. This is the true story of a Fairy-Girl. By, The Fairy Queen #poetry- 13 #poembook- 2 #spokenword- 1 #10,000 reads 10/01/20
