Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: A Force of Life #flashfiction #amwriting #nature


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——–

Credit: Tim Livingston of TheForesterArtist

——–

It’s the lushest rainforest I’ve ever seen. If one could say Mother Nature had a life force it would be here, hidden within this vibrant foliage. For me green is the color of life and I think of the exotic creatures found here and I understand why environmentalists are vehemently protecting a forest full of wild animals and their habitats.

To imagine this brilliant life force gone would be painful. There is an ache in my heart picturing the dustlands of a destroyed forest, where nothing can regrow because of how horibly the soil has eroded, stripped of trees. Seeing this century old car buried randomly makes me curious of how the car ended up here; I imagine it’s a fabulous tale. But there’s no one here to tell that story, only me, and miles of greenery. Here in the womb of Mother Nature, one could disappear.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers Prompt: Poem – Octelle – “Story Line Wrote”


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this weeks prompt — Paper Back Writer:

” What is your great novel/novella/collection of short/flash fiction/poetry/ pulp paperback/graphic novel? Of course, you don’t have to write it, just write about it.

Weave any sort of tale;  in the abstract or concrete; as you or a character of yours; being accepted for publication; editing process; book tours – remember you ‘just wanna be a paperback writer.'”


paperbackwriter
Credit: http://www.revolutions5.com

I’m still working on a novel called: How Was Last Night For You? I’m editing it in second draft. Still a lot of work to do and haven’t had the time to work on it lately. This Octelle poem illustrates the story line roughly:


She wants love, but it keeps slipping,

Through her fingers, the Sirene dripping.

She’s a regular girl, too kind,

Believes in people and magic finds —

In her paranormal world sound,

Curses, mermaids, sea witch found.

Nina narrator, life gripping,

Focus and ire of a mer-witch.


John wasn’t smart at twenty-five,

Lied about girl, she cursed him live.

Where ever he wondered,

Strange events encountered.

People got hurt, women injured.

No love; witch’s wrath incurred.

Sees Nina drinking Flirtinie,

Sparks, passion, between them ignite.


A mermaid she is, sea witch too,

She’s experienced pain, heart broke through —

Victorian romance; cad —

He’d a mistress, kids they had.

Clued in after his death –cried,

Traveled, came home to new guy.

Adare never changed, men still lie.

No broken girl now -she’s Talise.


Characters wrote, story occurs,

Talise hates Nina — it’s inferred.

She cursed John left his soul burnt,

She wants John back, she’s a flirt.

Evil, she’ll never gain him through,

Her magic; Nina loves John true.

Witch’s wrath, all will suffer –die?

No one can say; writer yet edits.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Fiction –  “When Mom Was Taken” #amwriting #fiction #travel #taleweaver 


Thank to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this #Taleweavers photo challenge.The theme is lost in a foreign land. 

——-

Credit: Mara Eastern – Used with Permission.

——-

“Madam, you and your children need to come with me,” a police officer stated. He was from the police nationale. 

Mom gazed up at him and asked: “Why, what have we done? We’ve only been sightseeing here on vacation. We have our passports and travel Visas.” 

“If you come with me, right now, this will be much easier,” the officer said. I shivered at his cold impersonal accented tone.

My Mom attempted to speak but the officer squeezed her arm tightly and picking her up, deposited her in the back if his police car. 

My sisters and I peered up at the officer scared spitless. “We didn’t do anything,” I said. “I’m twelve and my two sisters are ten-years old twins. We aren’t bad kids.” 

The officer nodded at me. I could hear my Mom crying and banging her hands against the window in the police car. My sisters Paige and Monique were crying silently. 

 “What’s your name Cher?” The officer asked me. His French accent was thick when he spoke English. 

“I’m Brianne, what did my Mom do?” The officer didn’t say anything, but he nodded to one of his fellow officers.

“We need to talk to your Mom about some things for a while. This is officer Carson, he’s going to take you back to your hotel. You girls can watch movies and swim in the pool. Don’t leave and always ask Carson when you want to do something. He’ll take you for repas du soir later on,” the officer said. He smiled at me and I could tell his smile was forced. 

“But our Mom . . .” Paige and Monique whined. It was no use. Officer Carson herded us into his vehicle and drove us back to the hotel we were staying with our Mom.

We played in the pool, pretending we enjoyed it. We watched three movies on pay-per-view and then some cartoons on TV. We played on our Mom’s tablet, emailing our Uncle Reese and asking what we should do. The message always came back to Mom’s email, saying the email address was wrong, but we knew better.

At 4:00 pm Officer Carson came back from the gift shop with chips, popcorn, pop, and chocolate bars. Paige and Monique were happy to eat what they could; mom didn’t let us have much junk food, even on vacation. I had a square of delicious Belgian chocolate and almost threw-up. 

Later around 8:00 pm, Carson told us to put on nice clothes for dinner. We dined at a trendy restaurant and the food was magnifique. By this time the smell of the delicious food in the restaurant and my hunger had surpassed the twisted and nauseous feeling in my stomach. 

“My Mom, what if she can’t afford all this?” I asked Carson referring to all we’d done so far. Our family had scrounged and saved to travel to a few countries in Europe this year. Mom thought it was vital for us to have the experience traveling to see history, and other cultures. 

Officer Carson appeared thoughtful. “It’s okay Brianne. Ne tu inquites pas. We’ll take care of things until your Mom returns. I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say. 

That night we went to bed sleeping fitfully. The next morning Carson awoke us and told us we would be sightseeing today. He told us about various places we could visit and let us choose a couple of them to see. We went to the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. We didn’t have to wait in line at all; we immediately were able to see what we wanted first. 

The four of us continued site seeing for the next week, never seeing our Mom. We always went out to dinner at a different restaurant each night to dine. Carson enjoyed eating well. 

One day, Carson even took us to H&M and some clothing stores for girls our age and let us each have one-hundred-and-fifty Euros to shop. We didn’t question Carson on this, even though it was a lot of money to us. We decided to spend eighty Euros and save the rest of the money for emergency. 

Caron seemed to know, “Vous etes des files intelligences pour economiser de l’argent. Bon les files.” He smiled at us, a rare occurence. We understood a bit of French from school and found ourselves picking it more with Carson. He brought us back to the hotel to spend the rest of the day watching movies and swimming. 

Three-weeks later our Mom returned. We cried when we saw her. I thought I’d never see her again and I gathered Paige and Monique thought the same. 

Mom appeared awful, unkept, and waif thin. She immediately went to bed, waking up in the middle of the night to shower. A wardrobe of various designer clothes and shoes was later delivered to her that week and Carson handed her a cheque for a large amount of money. My Mom’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. 

“For all your troubles Madam,” Carson told her and disappeared; we never saw him again. 

After Mom recovered for a couple of weeks, she decided we should continue to travel. A Doctor which had come to see her every two-days declared her fit and well. 

“Now that we have the money, we can travel throughout Europe and see many countries, not only three,” Mom told us. She smiled almost like her old-self and arranged for us to go everywhere we  wanted and stay in nice hotels. 

Later I thought back to this and realized Mom was running from the demons chasing her inside, from her nightmares, and her flashbacks. 

On a beach in Grenada, Spain, Mom finally said: “Girls I suppose it’s time we go home, you’ve missed a month of school already.” 

We didn’t want to leave. We were worried about or Mom. She hadn’t been the same person since the police first took her away. 

I’d given her space and only asked once or twice what happened to her. She ignored me. She wouldn’t talk to Paige or Monique either.

” I can’t tell you. That’s why we’ve so much money now Brianne,” she finally said to me.

——

Years later, I’m thirty-six and visiting my Mom. She is paging through a scrapbook of our European vacation. 

“You never said,” I began,”You never told me or anyone what happened to you in France. I know the memories give you nightmares still. What did the French police do to you Mom?” 

To my surprise she answered me. “Your Dad, you never knew him. I divorced him when you were only three-years-old and the twins one-years-old. He was a bad person, involved in things even in Europe which were awful and illegal.” A tear slipped out my Mom’s eye.

“When we came through France, they thought I was there to see your Dad. They promised they wouldn’t hurt my daughters but treat them well, if I told them everything I knew about your Dad. I told them I hadn’t seen him in almost ten-years that he was a terrible low-life, wanted across the North America.” 

“They wanted more. The police thought I had to be in contact with him. They were sure I was here to see him. For a week they tortured me, wouldn’t let me sleep, and other worse things. Eventually, they believed me and promised to let me go if I helped catch your Dad and draw him out from hiding so they could arrest him. Their plan worked, your Dad’s locked up forever,” my Mom said. 

“Mom, how could you not say anything all these years? How did you manage to travel around Europe after being . . .” 

She cut me off. “Money Brianne. Millions and millions in US funds. Enough to send my three daughters to the best universities and give you everything I couldn’t before. Enough money to wipe out the misery of that time in my life.” 

“Did it work? I asked my Mom.

She sighed tears forming, “It’s money Brianne. It makes things better and hides the truth. But in the end, the truth of what I went through is always there behind my eyes when I close them. I’m thankful Carson took care of you Brianne and Paige and Monique. He treated you well as the police promised he would. Above all, I was grateful and am grateful for that.” 

Mom closed her eyes and the tears continued to streak down her cheeks. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Luxebox: September 2016 – Trends Box #beautybox #beauty #skincare #haircare


I was lucky this month. I received two Luxebox’s for the price of one Luxebox. So the first Luxebox I received is called Trends Box and it has common but for the most part, well working skincare and hair care products, you could find at most any drugstore. So they aren’t expensive which is nice. But for instance, beyond their deodarent and skincare products, I’ve never found Dove hair care products to be any good. But it’s all a matter of opinion. Tomorrow I will post my regular Luxebox products, beyond this extra box of goodies. 

——–

1. 

Dove New Dry Spray Anti-Perspirant in Soothing Chamomile (I like this very much!)

——-

2. 

Simple Sensitive Skin Cleansing Facial Wipes – Tough on Makeup – Gentle On Skin (Also, like this product a lot. So soothing and gentle!)

——-

3. 

Vaseline Intensive Care for Healthy Hands and Stronger Nails (Wonderful product I’ve used it for years. Great to keep at your desk, or near your work area).

——–

4. 

Dove Advanced Hair Series Regenerative Nourishment Conditioner and Shampoo (Not a huge fan of Dove haircare but I’ll keep them for sleepovers!)

——-

5. 

Dove Dry Oil Moisture Body Wash with Nutririum Moisture (I do lov their bodywashes). Also, Dove Advanced Hair Series Regenerative Nourishment Serum in Oil (I only use oil on the ends of my hair to tame fly aways. i guess this will work?).

——-

6. 

Vasaline Lip Therapy Cocoa Butter – Helps Heal Dry Lips (Have to try this yet!)

——–

TRESemme Expert Selection Perfectly (Un) Done Waves – New Sea Salt Spray with Kelp Extract (I’m super picky about haircare products. Generally, you get what you pay for, however; sea salt is a pretty basuc product so I’m hoping this product is usable for me since I now have two!)

——

Thank you for reading! Tomorrow I’ll show you m actual Luxebox, he one I ordered. This was just an extra perk box! 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part Nine – Nineteen- Years Later #amwriting #flashfiction #thriller


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

—–

A Mixed Bag

——-

Chad awoke finding himself in an indistinguishable bedroom, lying in bed. He knew he’d recently had surgery for his gun shot wound.

He gazed out the window at miserable surroundings. A muddy canal separated this gated house from apartments under construction. 

Chad rubbed his heavy eyes, shocked to see Garig standing infront of his bed. “What do you want?” Chad squeeked.

Garig shrugged, sitting on the bed close to Chad. He smacked Chad on his side, jarring his wound.

 “I’ve been in the dark for many years.” Garig said, his nearly, albino complexion frightening with a gritty voice.

“The dark?” 

” I thought Tom and I were both siding with the Russians Chad. Tom played a double agent well. He acted like my best friend for decades. I believed, like you, you were Tom’s son.” 

Chad tried to speak but Garig shushed him. 

“I rescued Tom from near death in military prison in the US and nursed him back to life in Russia. But I had never trusted Tom after he stole Mona, your Mom from me. The nuclear bomb hidden in your tattoo was my fail safe –Tom wouldn’t betray me again.”

“I didn’t know Tom was deep undercover all this time and I was his commander. But our Russian higher-ups, they liked Tom, he always got the job done. It wasn’t until I found out he’d been siphoning secrets to the US — for nineteen-years, that I caught on. Mona told me you were actually Sam’s son Chad.” Garig said, then smiled disturbingly.

“You wouldn’t know this, but your mother and I have kept in touch for years. How do you think I found Sam and you with Bastion?” 

Chad angerily shoved at Garig, but Garig smacked Chad’s side again. 

“At the museum where Bastion died, Tom was there –but not with me. I knew he was probably trying to save you, that he found out about the special code I put in your tattoo. Then, some idiot marine wounded you and deactivated the bomb.”Garig said disgusted. 

“But Garig, I  . . .” Chad started mumbling before Garig cut him off.

Garig’s smile was malevolent: “Chad, I can’t let you live. Sam has been chasing me since you were born and I owe him; not to mention, Sam slept with Mona. Add to that Tom’s betrayel of almost twenty-years, and I have a deserved reason to kill you.”  

“How can you kill me since you obviously, love my Mom?”  Chad asked trembling.

“Your Mom is dead Chad. She would have prevented me from killing you. Mona was the only person who knew Tom was alive all this time. She needed to pay for betraying my trust and being such a slut and having you in the first place.” 

Garig took out a large hunting knife from his leather jacket, grazing it’s sharp edge against  Chad’s throat. 

“I think we should give Sam and Tom some lasting memories of you Chad. Don’t you?” 

———

Sorry, part nine is so long. Wrapping things up is hard!  

Read Part Eight here. 
———

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Diamanté – ” Fire, Phoenix, Light, and Darkness” #poetry #amwriting #music 


“Just Like Fire” – P!nk

——

Fire,
Scorching, Singeing.

Destroying, Cleansing, Burning all. 

Sparks inside me, embers glowing.

Remenants of yesterday dying.

Acrid smell, Burnt scent, Dusty death.

Blowing winds, Becoming but —

Ashes.

——–

Fire,

Flaming, Fluid heat, 

Interrupting life, Avenging, Lighting pathways.

Devastating the place called home.

Lighting the way back to safety, when enclosed.

Luminous candle, Glowing street lamp, Gleaming stars.

Beaming, Brighten’s with —

Light.

——

Ashes,

Grey silt, Smokey remains.

Leftovers, Burnt black-wood, Coughing fits.

From the ashes, rises the grand Phoenix.

Still the Phoenix becomes the fire.

Spreading fast, Blackening souls, Killing life.

Warmth, Hearth, 

Fire.

—–

Phoenix,

Reddish feathers, Flying past, 

Wings spanning, Soaring fast, Exploring the sky.

The fire brings the smoke to rise in plumes, 

The smoke also signals rebirth — to live again.

Light in Darkness, Glistening stars, Glazing flame.

Hope in , Glory of —

Light. 

—–

Light 

Beaming, Revealing, 

Unravelling mystery, Untwisting falsehood, Enlightening knowledge.

Shadow has no place to hide from light;

Darkness loves the corners hidden. 

Nightmares, Souls which quake, Fear Whispers, 

Gloomy, Depressing, 

Darkness.

—-

Dark, 

Twilight falling, Shaded sky, 

Creeps in Shadow, Blackening, Opaqueness.

Not a breath of light or air to spare in life;

Darkness in death, leads to despair without hope. 

Taking Cover, Teasing Fate, Testing Boundaries.

The End, Fini, 

Death.

—-

Death,

Scythe wielded, Bones rattling,

Soul gone, Decaying body, Empty shell.

The dead will rise at the end of days;

But until then, those of light stay in rays. 

Breath of freshest air,  No worries, No sorrow,

Peace, Promise Kept, 

Heaven.

—–

Fire,

Blazing inferno, Uncontrollable, 

Crisp hearts, Burnt hands, Wild fire’s agony.

Fire cooks our food, the first discovery of man;

But fire too, is life and rebirth; death is not the end.

Renewing life, Forest regrowing, Animals returning,

Hopeful for, Breath of —

Life. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

September Quotes of Note #amwriting #quotes


Here’s my first set off quotes for September! Enjoy and keep what you like. 

——

http://www.pinterest.com
1. 
——

2. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——-

3. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——-

4. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

5.

http://www.pinterest.com

——-

6. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

7. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

8.

http://www.pinterest.com

——

9. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

10. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

11. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

12. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

13. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

14. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

15. 

http://www.pinterest.com

——

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Neverland and Celesetial Beings” #amwriting #poetry 


http://www.science.nationalgeographic.com

——–

The words flitted through my head, 

As many words, words which may never be said. 

I felt the forms of celestial beings, 

The sky alight, starlight and star bright. 

Twinkling stars forever in their journey of millions to ten billion years, 

Black holes it would seem, a stars end, and another beginning. 

Like the words of poets, of mortal men, 

Glimmering sheen; spoken out loud,

Perhaps, for thousands of years. 

One day all words will flicker out, 

One day no one will remember the words, 

Said eons ago, but for His words; the designer, 

All other words fade to pitch, disappear into black holes. 

We wish for an eternity, yet we dream of fantastic world’s — Neverlands,

Our own earth to flawed to be genuine.

—–

I wonder what words we remember most? 

Are they the words of love and endearment? 

Or the words of intense, raging emotions?

The times we screamed as teenagers,

Angry at life, our parents the world.

Or the times we shrieked, like banshees, for our broken hearts. 

Are they words said at a loved ones funeral?

Or are those words always covered up, oozing untruth? 

Maybe, they’re the words of passion and heat? 

Said between, blissful, exultant kisses? 

Were these words in any situation real? 

Said to make us feel better, to feel okay, 

To make us feel that the world was right? 

Yet we keep spinning in our thoughts, beneath the heavens,

Residents of former Eden, spanning the globe. 

Beneath celestial lights, the greatest burning blasts of sun a flame. 

The stars we wish, mean there is and was a Neverland, 

Perhaps, a flying PeterPan to lead us? 

But Wendy, she wisely came back to earth; 

As Wendy, I stay grounded in reality. 

In a necklace around my neck, 

Wearing pixie dust, my hope —

That anyone can learn to fly, and one day find their forever home.

That any child has a home, where they are loved and safe. 

Hoping no one is a lost boy, 

Not without support and a fighting spirit, 

To carry on; their feet on the ground like Wendy — the mother. 

——

Oh stars spinning round the earth, you glow brighter —

Than the pixie dust of tinkerbelle’s sacrifice. 

Brighter than the gleaming moon, off of Captain Hook’s hook, 

Gleam keener than the crocodile’s eyes,  who follows Hook relentlessly.

Who wants to run forever from crocodiles? 

When they have a taste for your flesh, 

They want to devour you whole and escape is a distant goal. 

In real life, they’re too many crocodiles, 

Beneath celestial beings of the universe, in shimmering luminescence. 

Exist terrible creatures of horror and disease, 

Of hate and harms if every kind.

Those whose souls are so filthy, 

You would think they could never be clean.

But the filthy harmers, are rather variant from Hook’s crocodile, 

Imagine the music playing when the Crocadile comes, Disney made famous. 

The ticking of the clock, the crocodile had eaten, 

The metaphor for time always clicking, 

It’s heels along with Captain Hook’s boots.

So we discover, even if we’re Peter Pan, 

Life is not Neverland; even in Neverland, time keeps on ticking by. 

We cannot fly with Tinkerbelle’s pixie dust, 

Everyone and everything ages; we cannot escape this, 

If we were created from a black hole — a Big Bang —

A gigantic vacuum in reverse. 

Maybe, we are as stars gleaming only a moment? 

Mere seconds in reality, than forever, dying out. 

Re-existing in our heavenly home, 

If we followed that one star to the Manger.

And even Peter Pan chose one day, 

To stay home in the real world. 

He realized in an epiphany, eternity was too long to live as a child. 

He saw eternities vastness, in his old -young eyes, 

And said most clearly: “One day I want to die.” 

——

Peter Pan (Disney) – Crocodile Music

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Prompt: Poetry – Shakespearean Sonnet – “A Stage”


Thank you to Mind Loves Misery’s Menagerie for this weeks photo prompt:

—–

Unknown

——-

The whole world is our stage, the bard, Shakespeare —

In As You Like It, wrote: we‘re all acting.

Our flaws from our image perceived, not clear. 

Perform each day, we say words not exact.

——-

Our fear, our doubt; such lonileness confides,

All our truths to another’s sad eyes,

On rocks we stumble, we cannot stay; reside.

We could beg for help but we act, more lies. 

——

Curtains about to part, they hide stage fright,

White billowing clouds, pulled by ropes they show, 

Each person performing their role, their life. 

Hoping they bloom, become more then this –grow. 

——

The world’s a stage, what wisdom to impart,

We’re merely players, to soon to depart. 

——

For more info on Shakespeare’s famous lines from As You Like It, visit here

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Walls and Wings” (Reposted from Aug 2013)  #poetry #amwriting #relationship


This came up on my FB feed. I wrote it three-years ago and actually am happy with the way the poem was written, with some small changes. 

I was in a relationship and felt trapped. I longed to escape. I did; for this reason, I smile when I read this poem.

I broke free and things are all the better because I was given the strength to fly.

———–

http://www.motaen.com

——–

When the walls press in on me, cold stone, slimy, and grainy.

I search for the window which opens, when prison doors close.

Metal bolted tightly, oppression ripe in stale breath;

Little holes for air, aligned metal cylinder by metal cylinder.

I peer out the door and see a tiny hope blooming.

A Lilly in the cell corner opens slowly — white, soft, and curled.

Beautiful, lonely; the more you try to understand beauty, 

The more you see it’s fleeting.

 A Lily in the corner, with little light — it’s dying.

No window will shine sunlight on it’s glory, 

The cryptic darkness covers and creeps. 

The beautiful wilts, wanes, warped – a brown wasted mess.

Sitting in the corner, nothing pretty here — the pretty is ghostly.

The length of light, coming through, above the window sill fades;

All were left with is darkness, and dusk sets in quickly.

Purple bruises in the sky, which I can scarcely see, 

Slither into to a deep black dullness, 

No stars shine in the prisoner’s sky.

———–

Bracelets of steel, cold, and unforgiving — small wrists will not fit;

Through these round holes, which cut and divide, 

Hand from praying hand, at the 4:00 am hour.

I do not understand or know, how long I can take this.

To not want the fate of another, is it too much to ask? 

To be disappointed, not understood, used until I’m broken. 

To always be alone right next to another person, 

To always write these words sad and full of loathing.

Guns in the night, shoot me first.

These shackles are no golden bracelets, 

No silver charms adorn them;

You can’t buy this jewelry at Pandora

Steel is only made at rough factories. 

Oppressive, only manufactured, never crafted —

In grace and finery, with delicacy and laughter tingling.

Every time you shake the charms, tiny bells ring.

What do you do when charms no longer charm?

And brightness narrows into a black hole? 

——–

I think you run, slipping through the window.

You don’t look back,  though your feet hurt, 
To run on rocks and sand, and weep blood to be free.

I think you go, no matter how. 

Before you’re trapped, and chained to walls of slimy stone.

You turn and go, before those eyes see you; 

Those eyes you thought saw you but — don’t see you at all.

 And only have memories of days gone by.

You run because to be alone with eyes,

Is too alone; the stone angel trapped in fragility of life,

 Wasting her days, growing bitter and aged;

Never forgiving, the young, who see light with possibility.

The light rises over, a cold moon rises;

 Refreshes and results in absolution.

A crime has been committed, but sometimes laws, 

Must be broken to live in self – forgiveness, in self-acceptance.

This world is not black and white; my feet take off —

Crouch, then sprout talons, and white wings at my back. 

All of this for freedom, to become a bird, 

A lesser creature, all to fly in heavens glory.

All for that feeling in your chest, 

Where you can finally breathe. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.