Yet profound

Stringed together

Could bite, or bound

Knots in your throat

Escaping, never to return

Could dance in her ears

Or be lost, forlorn

A for an Apple, B for a Ball, C for a Cat, I was taught in class. I’d learn them by heart, innocent to the trauma or calm these words could inflict, once formulated into the expression of what consumed my head. Where would I be, however, without this power, this prize to express?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Pride and Joy.”