The hanging promise,
The gentle nudge turn persistent tugs.
Yes, my soul cries out in agony,
At myself, the tyranny.
Belittling, defeating,
invisible locks imprisoning.
Still, she defies the throne,
To shake the slumber,
Her whisper echoes the sound of thunder.
Yes, my fears remain,
Though I will not abstain,
This slow awakening,
For there's much to gain.
Love
