Raised by Wolves

Pretty little girl talking to you
so innocent, so cheerful
dressed in frills and smiles
her blushed cheeks, her red lips
What makes her real
when you touch her hand
she shyly looks in your eyes
the look of an angel.

The things you see
they’re not always real
Not speaking, listening
but you can’t really hear the thoughts.
Sit straight, don’t breathe
dress in white, always smile
Walk like a lady
do your nails, do your hair.

That’s all you see
that’s all you want to know
You never wonder
about the story hidden behind
You can’t really see
how dark her soul is
Marks under her skin
carved by the rules.

Just leave your hair down
let the wind to play with it
Run barefoot between trees
let your skin to be scratched
Jump into the river
let it steal your heart
Sleep under the stars
let them steal your dreams.

I make a move
because I know you’re watching
say things you want to hear
but I don’t mean them
I cover my head to hide
but in fact I want to be noticed
ignore you every day
just to draw your attention.

That’s what you want to believe in.
That’s your only explanation.

All the things that were supposed to
make me authentic, made me fake.

4 thoughts on “Raised by Wolves”

I like this… well done! And you delve into a well-traveled topic.

Probably the world’s earliest work of actual literature is, “The Tale of Genji”, written by the Japanese Lady-in-Waiting, “Murasaki Shikibu” (no one knows her real name). She was very intelligent and unusually well-educated, able to write phonetic Heian-era Japanese by using the sounds of Chinese characters. From her diaries, it’s thought that Shikibu put herself into the story as Genji’s love, “Murasaki”. She was describing the artificial and manufactured existence of the ladies of the Japanese court more than a thousand years ago. In her journal, Shikibu once wrote, “So all they see of me is a facade….”

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