You asked her work with me any time she’d dissent
Eating her inside the guilt for poor you
Excuses for your actions
Reasons why you didn’t and should
Till she’s sitting on a virtual powder keg pent up, spent
You still say work with me and miss the bitter smile
As she closes the door quietly
So she can rage within her head
Looking through and into the heart of the storm inside you
No longer wondering how to help you quell it
But seeing you keep creating it for yourself
So you can keep her in chains
Made from cobwebs of an old life
Figuring how to break free of you now
No longer excuses that are able to wash
The stains on her memory clean
They are wrapped up in neat boxes weighted by bricks
One day her words will free her mind
And she’ll pity you no more
Ailsa
©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016
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