Humble Not Broken

Humble not broken,

I’ve been held down,

as another’s token.

Raised in a town,

with grievance to feel.

Always the clown,

pushed over to kneel.

Browbeaten and bruised,

sold cheep and used.

Never stand too tall,

it’s certain you’ll fall.

Ring your own bell,

they’ll send you to hell.

Determined to rise,

my eyes on the prize.

I take my feet,

off the path of defeat.

Closing my ears,

to the sound of my tears.

Bluebells and butterflys,

crisp apple crumb pies.

Smell of fresh bread,

permeates my head.

I feel certain,

as I close the curtain.

Promises of celebration,

missed collective calibration.

Choosing free will,

I atone my own bill.

No more to dread,

Macbeth is long dead.

Rising to the surface,

inviting my purpose.

Passion pulls my desire,

all my emotions rewire.

Still held underground,

nevertheless joy I found.

Impervious to gloom,

dancing my own tune.

Seeking the reward,

I alone can afford.

My spirit twists and twirls,

profoundly proud to be a girl.