i was a battered wife
until I became a prisoner.
which is of course,
the only way to tame a Shrew
the single unlovely, outspoken, prickly weed
in his perfect garden
of quiet, well behaved possessions
the prisoner, fortunately,
will never become what she is not
and the Shrew will finally, at long last
notice a spark of light in the darkness,
pull herself up by her roots,
and her hair,
charge headlong into the
blinding white light of freedom
and never look back.
your circumstance is not your fate
it is a warning, not a curse.
run for your life
before you put down roots
(c) 2020 BGeiger