Innocent Mary stepped out of
the house to see
the wedding procession
where trumpets and bugles
locked horns
And people clamoured for
attention, on behalf of the
newly weds.
Innocent Mary thought this
as a perfect time
to getaway through the balcony.
The rent was paid
Cat was fed
Bag was packed
And no one cared.
Innocent Mary left her
pretentious coat on the stand
and packed some cookies
and stealthily crept
through the balcony
where no Romeo waited.
There was only Mary
and she was not innocent.
She made her way through
the old street of people
whom she thought she knew.
She was the prisoner of their
weddings and braggings
and draggings.
She was choked by their
rules and pompous
dressings and pressings.
They made the innocent Mary
out of the gullible Mary,
She wore the fake laugh
and spurious concernity
all the years.
They are captors
Of her actual feelings,
something that she figured lately,
something that she felt common,
Until the merchant from East
sang that song of free people.
As Mary ran in her peasant dress
through the old pathways,
with bruises on leg,
several ordinary flaws
threw their shackles
which made their way to the
rooms of young women
of the village.
Leaving her counterfeit behind,
Mary clasped the world
of weaving prose
and screaming poets,
Of pottery and art and
hallucinated People,
To unspool the ordinary flaws.
A.C
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