Set Free by Abigail Hurst

I am not a silent poet

I’ve tried to fly so many times
Shackled to the ground
Chains rattle as I pace
How I’ve learned to live is a disgrace

I get a running start to soar
And leap so high from the earth
Too quickly reminded of how I am tethered
And how my soul has become so weathered

These shackles that have no key
Attached to my wrists, to my neck and my feet
Spider away from my body
One lock linked to another chain
And each branded with a name

Abuse, self injury, nightmares, rape
Against my wrists the metal scrapes
Harlot, worthless, disappointment, regret
Four more names that you’ll never forget
Into my ankles the bonds dig deep
The lock around my neck
Bears one burden under which the others fall
The suffocating, all consuming, heavy weight
Of shame.

The sin of what you did,
Now my job to hide
To bottle…

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