Takes them off

And rubs her eyes…

The blur fades

And the girl unwise

Is seeing crystal clear.

The things she took to heart

The ways in which she bled

Were not from wounds

Of her own flesh

But things doled out instead.

Games of chess

With her as pawn

A whipping boy called knave

Who took the blame for everything

And let it all befall her

‘Til her head was bent

And her heart was broke

And her life became a horror.

Now she sees

The head disease,

The punishments she bore

Were his design.

Her heartsick plague

Infected by his sore

And damaged soul.

Its toll,

A choice

To stay or go,

To stand against

The steadfast wrath

Of pain

And insecurity

Not hers in source

Or cause

Or stay.

The path is clear.

The glasses

Trampled upon

As she runs for her life

And the lives of those she bore.

No more.

No more.

She goes

Rid of lens

And clear eyes to the sky.