White Picket Fences

Behind the posts and fancy lines, a poetess is blue. Her picket fence is yellowing and hanging all askew. ~ ~ ~ Inside her barbed and wired heart, cruel words have shut her in. It's perfect on the outside, but sorely hurts within. ~ ~ ~ The gate through picket fences swings open but can close to either bring her happiness or keep her filled with woes. ~ ~ ~ The fence - secured - so long ago has all but fallen down. She tries to keep it stabilized in spite of shaky ground. ~ ~ ~ The barricades will crumble yet from dead and useless weight and words can either shelter her or impale her at the gate. ~ ~ ~ She walks away on cobbled stones cracking beneath her feet. Let's hope she can remember that life's a two-way street.