Violets and Venus Flytraps
by Siberia

Note: The theme came from a bookmark of violets.

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a shrinking violet
oppressed and silent
a mere second thought—
that's what she was taught
she has to obey
to all that they say

raised to be unseen
finding no meaning
shapeless as a ghost
forgotten by most
there's no greater curse
than birth with no worth

destined to be crushed
her desires hushed
unable to speak—
the voice is too weak
rooted to the ground—
all freedom is bound

should she not conform
a leaf shall be torn
petals stripped from stem—
robbed of expression
trample on her soul—
a large, gaping hole

But all this abuse
Ignites a red fuse
Drawing energy
From Her deep fury
She is born anew
With the morning dew

What once was servile
Now burgeons hostile
The victim of feet
Sprouts razor-sharp teeth
The reticent face
Snaps fools into place

Starving for revenge
Patience meets its end
She uses the past
For Her demure mask
Then stands in the shade
Waiting for Her prey

Like a Lioness
Croching in stillness
She pounces on those
Who approach too close
They're turned into pulp
In one, solid gulp