Cursed cages. 

Must I carry the burden of my daemon at my side? Surely I can pick the golden thread stitches and set myself free of this treacherous power it holds on me.A shadow for Neverland perhaps, or maybe Satan will rise from the abyss to collect treasures found within, I have sold it him many times in darkened shadows of urine scented alleys for the dark secrets it possesses, perhaps he will come now as I shed myself of this torturous light. Yes, one stitch at a time I shall unpick the daemon that follows upon my shoulder a flaming phoenix she whistles a melancholic melody to the heavens or the hells, I no longer recognise. And without such a burden I shall reach for those stars that they say are outside of my reach, watch me, as I take what is mine to take, and leave behind the broken weepers that place upon me cursed cages of distraction. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

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