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  • Writer's pictureVictoria Quinn

the damsel

not a grown woman, not quite a child

she cannot proclaim a domicile

a tragic absence of purity

she was stripped of full maturity


struggling to pick up each footstep,

everywhere she went and left, she wept

desperate for love, yet scared to death

a stranger to sense solace in rest


overly zealous for dependence

she's too jealous for self-acceptance

yet unfitted to risk and commit,

digging a gravely bottomless pit


pitifully lingering along,

you’ll hear her sweetly sad siren song

she cries for help, but don’t you be fooled

inside the damsel there lies a ghoul


respect her space to discover more

wish good tidings in what she hopes for

not alive, yet not dead she will roam

seeking within, she will ground her home


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