Conformity put my fire out.
It was a lonely place, the dark of night.
Nothing but the faint glow radiating from my embers.
Let’s flash it back to one cold day in September.
I was a young exotic fruit, fresh off the boat, and I remember…
feeling downhearted. They told me foreign lies to get closer
just so I could get poked and prodded.
So I learned to adapt to more common type of fruits.
I became tart like a Granny Smith and well rounded like an Orange
but in truth…I was dying inside.
Unripened pieces of me were left in the divide.
We moved like Gypsies minus the sweet taste of freedom and each time,
the once felt feeling of adventure was tainted, no longer did it feel
I felt suffocated until the darkness crept in.
The necessary evil of loneliness in my solitude became a welcome friend.
The ubiquitous assault no longer made me seethe.
Through my lonesome, I remembered how to breathe.
As I drew my breath in, I imagined the life force wake every part of my
being from it’s slumber.
The preserved fruit was out of the jar, the glass couldn’t keep me
Then I focused on my once dying embers of hope, feeling inspired.
Blew my breath out, in relief, and set myself on fire.
Photo Cred: Lanaya