She holds on to possible futures
in crystal balls,
and hangs dream catchers
to trap demons.

She always heals her bruises
in bubble baths,
and her screams are muffled
by loud music.

She holds her heart together
with safety pins,
and covers her scars
with coloured band-aids.

She dims a mean, harsh reality
with candle light,
and wards off cruelness
with chocolate.

She never fights back
for fear of the costs,
the curse of being born
with a gentle soul.

 

© november child
photo credit: thedrinksbusiness.com
The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 280