She (a poem)

Cocooned inside the protective shell
Or chained for she may go too far
Her pretty little face looks longingly
Beyond her world, the room, where life begins

Her window shut tight, latched and covered
The panes a blend of the room and beyond it
Bitter-sweet concoctions brought to her to taste
She’s not satisfied, for she knows there is more

Bitter or sweet edible or not, she wants
She craves the worldly things beyond,
The door lay open for her to leave, and yet…
Something there is that stops her… the chains.

She cries like rain relentless sometimes
Sometimes a drizzle that turns into storm
Sometimes a storm that gives up in a drizzle
Doubtful sometimes of the reason, but always wet.

Her respite, the world may not understand
But she does not live in the world.
She speaks to the walls she has known all her life
The only ones who will listen.

Of reason, of meaning, of consequences she speaks
She understands why this must be done
For her own good, as the world does explain
To make her stronger to build her nerves

Against all evils worse than these
She must learn to cope, accept and bear
With all that may come her way
When she will be freed in to the world

She speaks of longing to see for herself
What wonders may come her way
Good or bad, experience she craves
The ones that are real and not fake.