Leaves fly free in the Fall
At last the trees have released them
But only in death does the freedom call
A young girl who stands outside her school
Pain in her eyes; she’s afraid to go home
The hell she calls her life, her world can be so cruel
Through her eyes you see a different world
On her arms lie all the scars
Given by the man who made her
There are no words to describe what she feels
Trying so hard to survive
Built up inside are so many fears
She turns to walk home, dragging her feet
Her heart pounds with what’s to come
Tonight will be the night she admits defeat
Neighbors don’t want to get involved
The painful screams from that dreadful house
The police remain uncalled
As the morning breaks, she’s become like the leaves
Released from the horrors and the fears
But only in death do those fateful trees set her free
sounds like she had a hard life and kinda welcomes death
As the autumn makes way for the dying of the trees, thus giving way to their freedom – so must winter ensue; but the freedom of her leaves was not to be found in a physical death – nay, the death of the child that once was, once was obligated to deal with such horrors; with the fall comes winter, where things lay dormant, and all things must face a “death instinct” during the cold months – but in facing it, and living through it, trudging on, and so forth, come Spring, this child will no longer be the scared little girl and that home will no longer be where she walks to – nay, she will be grown, and wise, and she will make way for a new summer and a new autumn until the next winter. seasons call for change, this fall is no different. only this fall marks the child’s journey from being afraid to being reborn the warrioress she was destined to become.
Very interesting take on it, thank you so much for your input!
Very nice Joann. Makes me think of something Emily Dickinson would have written.