Sitting in her car

In the stifling garage

Breathing in deeply

the air of freedom.

So sweet and clean

He’s not home.

Thank goodness

But HE’S home

Oh goodness!

Sitting in royal robes

Made in Africa

Preaching God and Religion

Wishing she was never born

To be there.

The sweet air of freedom

Her hair falls out

Combs over the bald spot

With a painted on smile.

How did she get there?

How can she leave?

She’d rather be alone

Because she doesn’t want

to go

home.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s