Once there was a girl who lived in a
Which helped her to deal with the everyday struggle.
It enabled her to stay very much content,
Even. When. Her. Time. Was. Up. For. Rent.
But soon they became tired of her dreamy visage;
The way in which her eyes encompassed the stars.
They wanted to bring her back to reality,
Though the girl feared it would destroy her sanity.
The – protestors – prodded – her – safety-sphere
Until her pulse was stuck right up a gear.
However, they had no such luck,
For the wall was made of sturdier stuff.
So the next attempt proceeded and the shoving began:
As if they were using a battering ram;
Finally it was managed to push her off balance,
But she rose up bruised; bracing; valiant.
She thought they’d stop but it was just the start,
For now they aimed directly for her
Heavy curses vibrated her shell,
The tremors racing up the Richter scale.
She shouted back butthehurtrebounded;
Her bubble had never been so crowded.
(The haven that she’d once lived in
Was now comparable to a prison.)
When she was down they were no more humane,
Heat melted the bubble and the ice it tore;
She knew her home couldn’t take much more.
Soon she was left – naked – bereft;
Shaking from the brutal theft.
Now the flames marred her body and the freeze ceased her prose,
Yet the worst part is that it didn’t bring close
A.N. Bursting Bubbles was borne out of my thinking about how I felt that my imagination and childlike ways were being squashed out of me as I got older, although the hyperbolic nature of the ballad makes it more fictional than the other poems in this collection. I’ve never wanted to grow up, but that hasn’t stopped it happening; I’ve since learned to just appreciate the life that I receive, no matter how fast-moving it may be.