A pewter cage she created out of her broken parts,
So that no one could ever again rend her fragile heart.
Neither strangers, family, nor a few old friends
Were welcomed in her life up until the very end.
Not even God in whom she had once believed
Was allowed in her world, for she felt deceived.
The only compadres that she would let in
Were in the form of bottles of bourbon and gin.
In her pewter cage, she felt safe and secure,
For if she kept everyone out, she was sure
Bad things couldn’t happen like as before
When on her sleeve her heart she wore.
But the problem with a self-made cage
That supposedly protects from another’s rage
Is it has no openings, either below or above,
That allows in the beauty and hope of love.
One sacrifices the sweetness that might have been,
By remaining inside it and not letting anyone in.
Written for OctPoWriMo 2019 from Morgan Dragonwillow. Day Four prompt is Cage-Pewter, Silver, or Gold.