by Simone Weatherspoon
Not captured, but imprisoned.
Not abused, but corrected.
Not normal, but criminal.
A longing for the unattainable. To reach beyond
my grasp. The world is small when you put it in a cage.
When you can swim the seas of your memories, and
you can fly across the skies of your dreams.
Only to be stranded on the island that is the present.
We cannot fly, for reality weighs us down, nor
can we swim for too long. Our breath mustn’t be
The unattainables I long for are grabbed by
others. I rest easier knowing they are safe in others’
Not escaping, but waiting.