Growth

A poem.

The unknowings of children
planted poison in words
A sense of self broken
crying out to be heard

An ally turned their face
despite the truth of the matter
Choosing to root in the rot
amongst the chitter-chatter

The girl stood alone
where she thought there’d be some
to trim out the lies
and help with the “how come”

Alone she would grow
though years it would take
Proving that when you’re made less
more can blossom from the ache

Photo by Fabrice Villard on Unsplash