Must we take the road displayed to us now,
With trim and tidy hedges to our side?
Curated by the hands that don't allow?
The hands that act if yesterday we died.
And if beyond we go this dreary road,
Their faces cast upon us now a scorn,
And raging words to you and me bestowed!
Our broken stay along this tread forlorn.
No more they shall suppress the will of us,
For wilder flowers grow to tend this hedge!
And prick the skin that holds us still, and thus
Its time we travel beyond brushes edge!
The hands that kept us held must let us be,
For through our verdant drive, we are to be free!
Posted in response to the challenge Hope & Resilience.
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