Freedom Behind The Door

Wooden floorboards open to the air,
Dust unsettled as she makes them creak,
Saying no, turning, walking away,
Takes courage found in someone named Weak.

Striding with strength she’s only just found,
The stairs are taken down two at a time,
Burn marks on the white banister where,
She sped through feeling free and quite fine.

Leaving behind the burning dinner,
As the potatoes bubbled over,
She pushes the door flying open,
A force of freedom is her cover.

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