She turned up

Everyday. Today

Went though the grind

Pushed out, bent over knelt down

Scraped scrounged lay prone

And yet

Her fate lines were etched in stone

Indelible, Irrevocable, non-negotiable

No matter her grinding away

Furious, determined.

No matter her scratching away.

Broken fingernails. Exhausted.

Yet every original etching replaced

With cruelty and certainty

By a relentless universe

No matter her bargaining chips

Preciously accumulated. Hard won.

Secretly hoarded, zealously guarded

Scattered now. Dust in the wind.

No matter her heartfelt desires and manifestations.

Now jaded, denied. Turned into barren fruitless trees.

Pre-ordained it seems

Pre-conceived perhaps

Pre-determined – Not by her choice

Or will.

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