I Chose Not to Be a Falling Star
I sat on the back porch, watching a falling star
feeling like a lightning bug, caged within a jar,
wishing with a heavy heart that I could fly away.
I needed to open the door. Should I go or stay?
He called my name and instinct told me to hide.
Would I be answering the call of Dr. Jekyll or Hyde?
I muttered something while wiping away my tears
and faking a smile, trying to disguise my fears.
I was as fragile at that moment as a butterfly's wings,
knowing it was time to cut the tethering strings.
Time to open the cage door and finally set myself free
If I were to stay, I asked myself, Who would I be?
My identity had been shattered, like shards of glass.
Each day, falling deeper into the depths of a crevasse.
He'd try to stop me from leaving, but I held the key.
I asked, "When you look at me, what do you see?"
He gathered me in his arms, whispering more sad lies,
and couldn't bear looking into his deceitful eyes.
I felt like a performer in a final appearance on stage.
and heard applause in my head as I exited the cage.
Had I stayed I'd have become his puppet on strings,
a miserable butterfly, imprisoned with broken wings.
When he'd ask, "Do you love me," I'd mumble, "Yes."
Deserving of an award for being one hell of an actress.
I'd have been lost and lonely, forced to sing and dance,
sorry I didn't decide to run away when I had the chance.
My eyes would never cease their flow of doleful tears.
I'd be a falling star whose light fades through the years.
11/5/2022 For a contest by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
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Copyright © Jenna Logan | Year Posted 2022
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