The howling

Watching the dust, pretty in the sunlight, and as I grasp, it’s gone, impossible to catch

my long golden hair incongruent with what I’m allowed to be
Can I buy the Smurfs record Mummy & later I want a Smurf bag too please
I want to play tea, party
Skipping rope games, rhyming is for me
painting a sunshine vista on the window
sewing embroidery onto a pillow
all my actions killed or lost
suffocated by those who demand I be grateful
denied by those who proclaim “Opportunity”
Not my own incongruence
But their ignorance and stupidity to be broken
She is within me now
The Banshee, has awoken
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