Queen of Bleeding Hearts

Maturity is letting silence rule queen, distance rule princess, and detachment serve as courtiers. My wonton hope for empathy plays court jester, and I solemnly understand the rules of the game. I play accordingly holding my cards close to my chest, feigning apathy. Kind coolness radiating from a place deep within. Reserving joy in a fortress of no. Childlike wonder, a gift to be earned, a side to be harboured. Exposure of a soft underbelly displayed only for those who passed the test of love, and even then held sacred from the non-believer. A thorny past dissipated to reveal wisdom. Power struck mercilessly in the name of wisdom. Moving forward in the name and guidance of wisdom. No longer a little girl afraid of her own shadow praying for understanding across the table, but now a woman strong in her intuition, weathered, and beaten in the name of wisdom, speaking clearly and never pro context. It was a fight to stand here, a fight to live freely. Free from self-inflicted chains and limited thinking, free of ego; pride dashed against the rocks of reality.

I stand here now, alive, drenched in my own blood, bleeding from an open wound otherwise known as my heart; a martyr in the name of wisdom.

— knowledge is power, but wisdom is divinity.