Kept tight and hidden inside,

neat little pockets of time.

The secrets to her soul.

The keys to making her whole.

Trapped within a stifled child,

a rageful anger,

true and wild.

Trust not she did.

Instead she hid.

Is there no place inside,

that’s safe to hide?

What did she do,

to fare so bad?

An empty heart,

a face so sad.

Was there no one to own the pain?

Was there no joy to gain?

Kept inside this frightened child,

a weakened spirit,

a heart so mild.

And yet a beauty glow,

that lit the secrets to her soul.

Linda Booth


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