She would do whatever he asked without even asking any question.

Even herself she would hurt, possibly ready to die to her man, please forever.

She knew she was killing herself softly, still, she felt comfortable with it.

She said: Ain’t any better out there. She dared to think she had no other choice,

No other choice than to be a tamed girl who would softly die to feed his narcissistic ego.

She gave up freely on the beauty of her wildness because she believed this to be a relief to dangerous freedom,

Freedom that she would have explored if only she had been told that true happiness lies in the beauty or being wild and free, being true to oneself without having to fit in, without having to sacrifice one’s freedom to be the perfect match, to be the perfect partner,

Partner in a poisonous relationship that gives no chance to breathe,

Chance to breathe the pure air of freedom, freedom to be, freedom to think, freedom to explore oneself.

She would rather be a tamed girl than just a beautiful wild creature she was meant to be.


She loved to cry, cry all her eyes out when he would lay hands on her.

Tears on my face whenever I saw her.

She’s a scholar,

Still, a tamed girl.

Paterne Freeman Shadowriter,Lyrics of Revival, Poetry Volume