first post


It is the façade that wakes her up and,

Leaves her covered in sweat on a cold night.

This wall of protection,

The consequence of spite.


It is the illusion of freedom, which propels her forward,

Leaving many paths and people upturned in her wake.

This wall of fading protection,

The consequence of what is at stake.


It is her coping mechanisms which hold her back,

The yearning of men to want her, a need to be alluring.

This broken wall of protection,

The consequence of having an esteem which needs reassuring.


It is the distraction from what causes her pain,

That is the real thorn in her side.

The lack of protection,

The consequence of becoming too old to run and hide.


Her act is getting old, already one has not believed it,

One has questioned it, and one has praised it, yet others can still be fooled.

This rebuilds and reforms her protection,

The consequence of moving to many “new” schools.


The long, sleepless nights have returned,

Broken only by the cusp of dawn,

When her questioning and doubt return themselves to their abyss,

In the dark corners of her mind.

This rips and tears her ephemeral protection.

The consequence of being observant, yet wishing to be blind.

The façade is to protect herself and others,

From what she will and could do.

The necessity no longer protection,

The consequence of discovering yourself, and learning a thing or two.




Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was the very first poem I wrote. It always give me a nostaligic sense of how far (I believe) that I've travelled.