green girl

are we born or are we bred,
in wombs or in a shed,
do we grow towards the light,
or does it shine where we might?
nature’s collar hangs
the ones who dare evolve –
to seek out paths outside our own,
knowing, conforming to our growth.
with strings attached we enter such,
our arms and legs
bob to the beat,
of callings prophesied.
nature’s nature,
tinker tailor,
weaving in the paths we tread.

wicked thrust in your face;
your broom is given,
you however, taken.

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