top of page

There once was a little girl born into a world. 

It had an endless amount of rules

that liked to change,

but the outcome remained the same.

The little girl  

always lost the game. 



It didn’t matter what she did. 

It didn’t matter what she said.

The little girl went crying to her bed.


And she would rage.

And she would plead.

“I promise, I’ll be good.” 

Her hands would ball into fists 

and she’d be resolute where she stood.



She clawed at herself.

And hurt herself daily.

She thought if only she could rip it out.

The thing inside her that made her lose.

The thing inside of her 

that made her so easy to bruise. 


I want it out


I want it out.


I want out!


She would shout.


But the world continued to turn

She adapted and she learned.

She embraced its sharp edges.

Made houses of its dark ledges. 


Growing bold.

Growing daring.

The little girl twirled round and round.

She bent around 

the rules and skipped over

the clever traps that flew.

And the little girl laughed 

and knew exactly what she had to do. 


She threw herself right off the world

and she unraveled in the air

playful fingers combing through her hair. 


At the bottom of the world she came to land.

A dark pile amongst the sand.


A golden light emerged 

from the heap

that had been dormant and asleep. 


It grew three times in size

and knelt there and considered. 

That little girl did her best. 

She really tried and deserved to rest.


But from the winds a voice whispered.

A voice sang,


“You played by their rules, but it’s time for a change.


It’s your time.


It’s your turn.


You can live on your own terms.”


And the little girl’s face came alive with a grin.

And she went on to dance across the world

shining bright from that light within. 

                                         -S.E. Crawford

bottom of page