Burning Coal

The gilded cage, its bars unseen,

A tapestry of what should be,

Woven by whispers, a collective keen,

Of how a life is meant to flee.

A weight of glances, nods of knowing,

The silent judgment, sharp and sly,

A path laid out, continuously showing,

The summit where my worth will lie.

My spirit chafes, a restless bird,

Against the pressure, soft and deep,

Each whispered wish, each spoken word,

A promise I am bound to keep.

The air feels thick, a heavy shroud,

Of expectations, finely spun,

I yearn to break from this well-meaning crowd,

And chase a different rising sun.

Yet, in this struggle, strange and stark,

A flicker ignites, a burning coal,

A refusal to remain a mark,

A captive reaching for a goal.

For in their gaze, I see reflected,

A strength I didn’t know I held,

A need to prove, though disaffected,

A story bravely to be spelled.

So trapped I am, within their frame,

But in this trap, a fire grows,

To play their expected, winning game,

And then, perhaps, to choose my own prose.

To climb their peak, with gritted teeth,

To taste the victory they define,

And in that triumph, find beneath,

The power truly to be mine.

This fight is born of outside need,

But in the fray, my will takes hold,

To plant my flag, a defiant seed,

A story waiting to unfold.