The Vault

 

Bound in chains

Such merciless metal

Does tear at the flesh

Like a delicate petal

 

Torment ensnares

The mind of a soul

Whose innocence similar

To that of a foal

 

Yearning to run

The wind through its mane

Away from the land

That’s home to all pain

 

Yet in her cell

Though imaginary, granted

She lives and thinks

Of ideas that were planted

 

Deep in a heart

So lovingly tender

By those who so harshly

Push her to surrender

 

She wills to fight

But not with a sword

Yet in a fashion

We all could afford

 

Her pen is her weapon

With intentions so pure

To face all the challenges

That she must endure

 

Strength is apparent

With eloquences she says

Such verbiage so sweet

I’ve know, for I’ve written

 

Poems of sorrow

Of Passion and dreams

The written word speaks

For those silent screams

 

She is to be treasured

No matter her no fault

You just have to open

Her imprisoning vault