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.
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.