I grieve for the girl with ambition
The one with the world at her feet, everything at her grasp
I grieve for the love she gave away like picked flowers, freely and without caution
I mourn for her conviction, lost with passing of time and broken promises.
I envy the women that didn't get lost, the ones that stuck to their guns and fought for their truth
I once thought my spirit was vast, but somehow fear pulled at my ancles so I locked that light away in a jar
It lives atop the pantry, next to the sugar and spice
Always dreaming of something nice.













