But little girls they were.
Not truly grasping the bane of your existence, yet welcome the whispers of your greatness into their lives.
I had no desire to open my arms to the unknown.
Perhaps this is why I was pricked first.
I never told, not a one of them. They knew you not like I. Those ears of theirs would receive me poorly if I spoke of your fringed greatness. So I listened to their continued whispered exhalation, from the tongues of children who knew no better.
All flowing waterfalls are not so beautiful.
I was stained. A walking guilt of shame. If I spoke of your existence I would be shunned.
Yet a leper without you.
And so with your existence ever present in my body, I accepted the torturous pain you bestowed upon me.
Waiting for my gifts curse to end.
For its moment.
Until it reared again. This gifted curse of ours.
All flowing waterfalls are not so beautiful,