Victoria Lyn Poems

Forced contrivance in the name of progress. Authenticity wanders between the zeros and ones that communicate thoughts and emotions. The giant mainframe consisting of the total sum of the world's knowledge, beliefs, fears, hopes, dreams, love…
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I'm a child,
searching for the comfort.
Of a mother's arms,
finding only emptiness,
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She surpassed your expectations
A courageous defiance
She knew she could soar higher, knew she should fly
Felt the unacceptable compromise
Buried alive...
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Raging winds
Oblivious to the silence that forms
At the core
A collector
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And she cried and wanted more, as women often do
Unity
Just a small miracle, harmony
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Who am I?
A breath, an essence, a story
Many narratives
words that inadequately
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