No woman is an island [A poem, if you will…]

No Woman is an island,

I am fighting the change. The growth, it’s spring after all. Like the warm tempest to beat down my door, like the wind that taught my dog to howl
spring and change come with storm, a price, and pain.
The Thing that are broken stay broken, and whatever is small is small
and the Thing that lay dormant wants to reach reach reach…but won’t.
I have lost the joy of renewal- traded it or gambled it away -years before realizing it’s loss and now, emo and insecure i question EVERYTHING, for nothing is simple in this yellow light.
What fear is still fear? What question could you answer anyway? Answer correctly that is.
But what will is still mine, I take with me, forsaking all, leaving life, and island, and yellow light behind…
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