Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt.
Poor little Anne tried,
So hard to fit in; she can’t —
Conform to their look.
Sense of presence in her glance,
Terror; they don’t know freedom.
Yet Anne tries and tries,
To be a cardboard box just —
Like all the others.
Left alone at recess eating,
Ripe oranges, she’s exotic fruit.
But they don’t invite —
Her to their parties, Anne cries,
She doesn’t see why,
She has to be so different,
A plant from foreign soil torn.
Anne grows into her —
Self; she stops being afraid,
Sees her beauty is —
That she’s unique not like all,
Those other girls, loathing her.
In grade school there’s this —
Small boy painted in war paint,
His Dad went to war,
He didn’t return home, saddened —
Anne helps him; he remembers —
So years later they’re —
Attached — those girls all want him.
But his friend is his —
Love; she was with him,
All along; the handsome man,
Love’s different, not perfect Anne.
Though she struggles hard,
Hoping for female friends, he says,
He loves imperfect her,
Because she doesn’t have to
Be ‘like them’; she can be good.
Then she starts meeting —
Others, women who become —
Her tribe, with her guy.
The gazes of jealousy —
Double, but Anne doesn’t care.
Anne is as a bird,
A swallow singing sweetly.
She’s lively, vivid;
Her eyes shine bright; he loves his —
Anne, contently, completely.
©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.