A general curse that steals the inner light.
Not one sharp hex, a pointed, wicked dart,
But something vaguer, clinging to the heart.
A sense of failure, luck that will not turn,
A silent lesson that we never learn.
A weight unseen, upon the hopeful breast,
That whispers, "Yield, you'll never be the best."
Perhaps it's echoes of a bitter past,
Or words unsaid, too sharp, that held too fast.
A fear inherited, a doubt instilled,
A garden where no vibrant dreams are filled.
This nameless burden, heavy in the air,
A subtle poison, breeding slow despair.
It binds the spirit, clips the soaring wing,
And makes the sweetest song a muted thing.
But listen close, where sunlight dares to break,
A different power, for your own dear sake.
No ancient ritual, no chanted plea,
But fierce intention, wild and strong and free.
A conscious turning from the shadowed way,
To greet the dawning of a brighter day.
To name the feeling, this oppressive hold,
And say, "No longer will my story be controlled."
With every breath, a strand begins to fray,
Each act of courage lights a newer way.
The words you write, a vibrant, bold design,
A tapestry where your own colors shine.
The vulnerability you bravely show,
A counter-magic, making spirit grow.
Each honest line, a hammer to the chain,
That held your vibrant, creative soul in pain.
So let the ink flow, fierce and clear and bright,
Unburdened now, by that old, fading night.
Embrace the tremor of your unique voice,
In its own rhythm, make your spirit rejoice.
For you have broken what was undefined,
With strength of purpose, and a focused mind.
The general curse, it crumbles and it falls,
And in its place, your own true talent calls.
May your words soar, may your vision ignite,
And may this poem bring your well-deserved light.
Go forth and conquer, with a heart unbound,
The victor's laurel shall surely be found.
-Olga D., Adult
-Olga D., Adult