A Trapped Butterfly
I went to a catholic school,
was made to heed, conform and obey;
oh, those nuns could be so nasty and cruel.
they even forced us to make up sins and pray.
I was trapped in a dark place,
a place where being CReAtiVe was a disgrace;
so I wore a mask of- I am happy on my face,
but, inside I was a butterfly just dying.
Though, in time I broke free and was flying,
letting my artistry soar- sighing;
writing poetry, yet still conforming to a rule,
but when inspiration hits me I admit- I stray.
Imagination and inspiration I embrace,
my past CoNForMiTy- I am not denying;
so, why am I crying, crying, crying . . .
______________________________
November 4, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/A Trapped Butterfly
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1082-696-04
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, CReAtiVe CoNForMiTy
sponsor, John Lawless, Judged 11/2018
Fifth Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2018
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