The longer you are sitting, the less you are inclined to stand.
The longer you have flinched away, the less inclined to feel his hand.

I hate these mental obstacles, mere imprints etched into the sand
And yet, no tides sweep by, and so they’ll keep their marks to reprimand-

Any hint of freedom that I think my heart is longing,
An urge to step away, a wall, a barrier, prevents belonging.

A carrier of hatred, like an exile cast away
By some twisted kind of monarch, night before her wedding day.

Like a tiger in a cage with eyes like flames that yearn to roam,
With a mother on the planes who wonders not when she’ll come home.

A sun that never sets and though her burning pleases morning eyes,
You’ll find yourself soon pleading for the moon’s sweet kiss, the darkened skies.