...The story of a girl in London, England


Sonnet 35


I turned the key, and as expected found

An empty, lonesome space within the box.

I didn’t think to find, this time around,

The void filled up behind the metal lock…

But hope is something I can’t seem to quench—

That little light, that flutters like a bird

Anticipating flight… till I am wrenched

Again to earth, aware that I’m absurd

For bothering to check again each day.

Afraid to look, unable to withhold

Myself. Habitual, and in a way

Degrading; yet expected, I am told.

So I continue opening the door,

Expecting nothing, hoping for much more.

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