she was too young when she sold her voice
in exchange for the sort of happiness
that comes from obedience and conformity.
each step towards her dreams of independence

and unfettered happiness
was taken on a glass-adorned floor,
her family’s kaleidoscope of shattered hopes.
she walked on those tiny knives,
the smile on her face borrowed, not bright.

little songbird dreamed of being herself,
though her bleeding feet paved a scarlet path
for their expectations.
unintentional but titanic chains.
“You are our future,” they promised fiercely,
ravenous, eyes black as their intentions,
“You will be perfect.”
it was her first mountain.
she learned quickly she would
never best it.