Their Life

Below the golden hill she lies and waits until the day the prince will come to save her life prescribed by weak vindictive fates. Below the hill her life begins to blur. Her golden strands are floating in the wind, upon her head but nothing on her shins. A skin tight dress that no one knows is pinned; a thin outer layer of skins on skins. To be a woman with no job or choice o live to wait on men who will not give her rights to life to love to own to voice to live a life without the chance to live. She'd rather die than sorrowfully become a human being crushed beneath their thumb.