and she walks in sorrow
Anitha-witchlady
she walks in sorrow
more than
she walks in beauty.
the queen of the night
but by daybreak,
she is nothing
but a deluded man
or so she feels.
not the heroine she dreams of being.
not the goth girl,
and not even the preppy girl.
can't she be pretty too?
no she must be "handsome"
and that grates on her ears.
like centipedes walking all over
pricking, crawling, and tingling,
and not at all a cause for celebration.
she wants gowns and tops
but cannot wear them
it isn't safe- her parents say.
they are right- this is Texas afterall-
but for the wrong reasons.
nevermind that it brightens her,
just thinking about such things.
nevermind that she feels more alive
wearing makeup and chapstick and nail polish
than in not wearing them at all.
she wants to twirl and dance
not to run and tackle.
she wants to be soft and warm
and to smell of cookies
not to smell of body odor and sweat.
she just wants to be a woman- that's it.
the saddest thing is that
she doesn't know that she already is.
