Choices

I must preface this poem by saying I took some inspiration from Sylvia Plath\\'s The Bell Jar and the metaphor of the fig tree. ( And just a little FYI if you have not read this book I recommend, it is my absolute favorite and I have read it about 30 times. The writing is just amazing.) People look at me, but what do they see? I don't even know what vision is going on inside An unbloomed flower And unborn child Innocence is power, but lonely Innocence is no longer here So why do I still feel like a child? There is so much that I long to do, Why do I have to choose just one? I am in my own Bell Jar I have my own fig tree The air is being sucked out Time makes my choices fall one by one Open me up There is so much inside I am stuck sitting against this trunk Sticky juice pouring over me Interweaving and becoming my tears