(photo credit: Pixabay)
Like a puppet,
they had programmed and controlled her,
She needed not a manual,
she knew not before this,
they had been deciding her life for her,
with determination they made the tools necessary to keep the charade up.
In flashes of blurry lights,
she saw it all unfold.
How she had spent the years already lived,
how she hated that which they had turned her into.
She became aware of those around her,
caught in the maze,
unaware and with no intent to deep their feet in that cold deep well.
The well was calling out to us,
but we had begun comfortable with shallowness of the puddles within.
The maze keeps us running in circles,
cycling back to that which is familiar and common.
But the maze has an entry and exit.
It’s the strategy used that can get you out,
she retired from being a maze runner.
She understood the maze,
the depth of its effect,
and without trying to take others with,
she listened to the well.
The well keeps calling out to her!
The well appeared too deep,
and full of monsters,
but she needed to listen to the well.
It was about time to listen to the well.
No friend, only foes would come with this type of decision,
But she had self,
and her and self were starting to pull each other out of that rut.
She doesn’t want fix things,
she doesn’t want to toe the line any longer,
she doesn’t need to read up books of others’ opinions of what was wrong with her.
Nothing was wrong with her.
She’s on the wrong side of the well.
She jumped into the well,
accepted that even though it looked like suicide,
it was the freedom she needed.
She wasn’t going to tame that which was natural,
she wasn’t going to keeping acting like she knew more than the sun and the moon,
like the sun and moon, she would just exist as such,
exist as that which the universe needed her to be.
The well had been calling out to her,
She finally paid homage to the well.