Caged by the mistakes of your poisoned protector,
grief, written across your wings.
Grief for the girl you should have been,
the child who never had a chance,
pulled across the torture rack before you were a teen,
blamed for patterns that were scratched into your skin before you were even born.
Caged by projection from your Peter Pan protector,
doomed never to escape the echoing excuses,
unmoved by the pain you've grown used to,
dreaming of freedom,
resurgence of innocence,
and one day, where you don't have to be Wendy.
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