Over it.

By Amy C. Witt

I lay in my bed with a prisoner’s tongue
Wondering when my life will ever become
Something better than the pain and the hurt
Something that is better than what I’ve endured

 I walk the streets in my shiny black stilettos
Head held high while smoking this cigarillo
Wondering if this is where I’m meant to be
Wondering what will ever satisfy me

 I through my leg over my saddle
And I know that I’ll never be in the shadows
Of the walls
of the pain
And the suffering and the hurt
Because I finally know my worth.