© Elysia Byrd

Handbags at dawn in the depths of the forest 

Oil on canvas 2019

Rise to meet with an outstretched hand

but all I get is a snarl and a glare

It's handbags at dawn then 

for all I care 

No womb warmth there, no hands held in circles

Made sure to feel I'm not one of the locals. 

 

Don't they see 

this isn't the way life needs to be.  

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