It slips from her tongue –
a venomous truth,
sentencing her to a damnation
of metaphorical chains around her wrists –
holding her hostage
to an overused lie.
She craves to be set free,
what needs to be said
to the keepers of the restrictions
that hurt so many.
They enforce a pain,
a knife stuck between four chambers –
loneliness, hope, love, and compassion.
she sits on the stone cold floor
with no hope.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.