The Circlet
The circlet of silver in her hair
Weighed down on her like lead.
A sign of her wealth and rank
It imprisoned her despite
The notions they held.
Servants bowed, but
Kept their noses in the air
Inquiring on only shallow things
They believed to be her nature.
Cruel, cold glances
Left her hollow.
She suffocated under
The wrath of silver.
She could bear it no longer.
Her hand raised and tore
The silver circlet from ebony hair.
Her head unbent from the weight
And the sparkling shackle
Lay like fairy dust on the floor.
No comments:
Post a Comment