Mistress Sally: Tale of the Compulsive Apologizer

Heather has a Bachelor's Degree in English from Moravian College and has been freelance writing for more than 13 years.

A picture of modern womanhood was to have it all

And still be eager to have more explorations into unknown

An adventurer with the alternating desire to have roots as well

Sally wanted to depict a new story of a fun loving brunette

Putting an end to the fiction that only blondes know how to party

More to the story than what was the color of her hair

Our unassuming heroine appeared to fit the new mythological bill

Confidence, intellect, drive, and a decent job to boot

A sense of humor that cut through the thickest of logs

A nurturing nature and smile that made many safe

Like a protective mother bear who would fight extra hard

For those she cared about the most in the world

Sadly, it's a carefully orchestrated disguise

A security blanket of sorts to keep the wolves at bay

Getting too close to the soft nougat center on the inside

Where her heart and other vital organs lied

Afraid of experiencing too much joy at once

Here today; gone tomorrow without any warning whatsoever

Put trust in the wrong crowd eager to use, abuse and dispose

Of Sally's remains like a crumpled up New York Times from yesterday

Explained why she was sometimes way too gracious with her guests

And even more overly accommodating to her loved ones

Literally giving them the keys to the kingdom for them to become Vikings

Pillaging and laying waste to everything after they were finished

Made constant excuses for the weaknesses of others

Believed that sometimes she wasn't worthy of true love or acceptance

Embraced whatever was given; even if it was bad for her health

An undiscussed anxiety that withered away any potential night's sleep

A mental piranha ravenous to eat away what's left of the appetite

Turned into a knotted mess of extension cords unable to break apart

Needed a miracle who could break through this sailor's induced mess

Apologized constantly for her own needs and desires

When it occasionally conflicted with whoever she was with

Stomach turned into a Wrestler's chokehold out of guilt

Worried too much about what everyone else thought

Whether too many societal boundary lines crossed during conversations

Noticed at least one chalk filled line blurred already by one small footprint

Almost curious to see what two small footprints looked like

Started to not care what the moral police thought about anything

Ready ruffle a few feathers and not worry about ever cleaning them up

Buried the dust pan for good and time to stop being a nervous wreck

The time to stop feeling and saying sorry begins right now

Will it stick? Hard to say.