Capturing pretty things,
and dangling freedom in front of them
for sport.
Causing them to believe they’ll get out of here
and yet you always come up short.
You should be ashamed..
You rid them of their name,
of their own identities,
and turn them into something
completely different—
You take their memories,
erasing them,
blaming them,
framing them.
Dressing them up in only threads
of lies spun into gold.
Taking their souls,
to the highest bidder, SOLD.
How do you sleep at night?
Knowing that you’ve stripped someone
of their life,
of their fight?
Holding them captive,
and against their will.
Just for laughs—
just for wicked little thrills.
It’s fucked up,
and so are you.
In your fit of madness and rage,
there’s no telling what you would do.
Capturing pretty things,
and dangling freedom in front of them
for sport.
You’re an unbiased monster—
It doesn’t matter
what they look like,
if they’re tall or short,
it doesn’t matter if their eyes or blue or brown
it doesn’t matter because you’ll always be around.
You’ve even gone so low
to not care about their age.
Because you will still take them hostage
and put them in this motherfucking gilded cage.
– Poetic Gawdess
Someone done you wrong but the cage door is now open…..soar.
The caged mind is a lot harder to escape from.
I liked this one PG
🙏
I love the title of your poem. The real truth lies just below the layer of deception…my interpretation.
Your poem makes me first think of the young girls and women abused by Jeffery Epstein. Be it an unhealthy relationship or friendship; subjugated either by physical and/or emotional abuse. However, I can relate to the emotional trauma your poem speaks to in a different way than of my first thought. Every personal experience is different. In my situation, I perceived myself as a bird in a cage. However, the cage had an open door. Faith and courage to extricate myself though the obvious open door was elusive for far too many years. These words best explain my experience…
Soft Murmurs – “One of the hardest goodbyes is when you still love someone, but the relationship is no longer healthy. Your heart pleads to stay, but your soul knows you must leave to protect your light. Staying means waiting for change, effort, and reciprocity. In that wait, you shrink. You accept hurtful words and crumbs of affection, sacrificing your peace for someone who gives just enough to keep you, but never enough to truly value you. Leaving is heartbreaking. You will doubt your choice, but the pain of staying of losing yourself is far greater. You don’t leave because you stopped loving them. You leave because you started loving yourself more. This isn’t an act of anger, but of profound self-respect. You choose peace. You choose yourself. And that becomes the bravest love story you will write.”
Mic Drop!
I love that you’re words are so powerful, damning, shaming – great emphatic poetry: well done you! Harriet-Jacqui Furl, Author.
Why does this make us think of Epstein and his pedophile crew. You took abuse and flowed with it Lady, to freaking tight
I love this. A gut punch, a mic drop, and one hell of a raging fire.