Seil Chat

With one slash of the blade, that first cut, she steps towards the cell. Then, a new dawn, fresh light, and the cell doesn't seem so close. The second cut comes, but penetrates so much deeper, adding to the old wound. So it continues, light and joy, darkness and pain. Until, one day, she goes into the cell willingly, and without a backwards glance, turns the lock and throws away the key.

Another fine poem. It says, but in a slightly different way...

Which is, I think, the point of life: to be able to express yourself in different ways, at different times. Accepatance....

Thanks again, M.

Nice one.