Release Maggie hears a soft wail One early autumn morn She stops what she is doing To see where it comes from A young one is crying Or an animal is in pain Maybe it's a wind up toy Left out in the rain The wail is now a lament Piercing through her skin Maggie halts her searching For the sound comes from within The wounded child inside Is pleading for release She cannot keep her silence Maggie's love she needs Face buried in her hands The tears begin to fall Maggie's grief unfettered As she starts to recall
This is kind of dark, gothic, maybe, I tried to picture her in my mind, a woman with her hands over her ears, Kneeling and sobbing, quietly. Her mouth and eyes are wide open, but no sound comes out. Did I get it?
