Her path started, just like everyone else’s:
At home.
As loving as any home could be
Yet even in the safest spaces
Trouble always seemed to find a way in.
Yet it was familiar.
The bad always came with the good,
And so it was never worth mentioning.
She didn’t know she was hurting
Until someone asked her why she was crying.
And so, indignant, she fled the familiar
In search of something to call her own
Hoping to run the world
Yet she found herself
Only running from home.
She wrestled with her choices
Trying to find the perfect one
Only to find that it did not exist,
For she could never escape herself.
And so she tasted for herself
The drink that comes with
Steps that have been ordered;
A sweet ale infused with bitter herbs.
She had always been hard on her parents
For not being more like
The ones she had seen on TV
Or that she had heard of in sermons,
But now as she considered the children
Of her own that she was bringing into this world,
How she would die for them
Yet never be able to live for them,
How, no matter how hard she tried
She would never protect them from every possible danger.
And so she she saw, now, for herself
How beautifully treacherous
The ordered path
Can be.

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