Well, Emily was wrong
Hope turned out to be featherless
The darling girl’s corset must
Have been too tight
And caught the better of her
For I am still too alone
For my own good and
Deserve more than some
Delicate, fragile feathers.
I deserve something able to
Withstand the weight of endless storms,
And even an apocalypse for that matter
There’s got to be some concrete
In the equation somewhere
In order for things to function
To the likes of my bulletproof heart.