Cave

This is a metaphor for workplace politics and how one girl is effected by it.

She was never well-versed in their ways
The little girl in the lonely cave
The pride that welled up like a wave
Has lost momentum, for the moment

The sticks and stones they hurled
Left her ugly side unfurled
For all to see, for all to taste
A burning taste on the tongue
A twist of hurt, a dash of doubt
Peppering of pain, pinch of envy
Insouciantly insecure flavor...to savor

The palate overwhelmed with a rush
Of spice...crushed against the roofs of their mouths
Mouths that talked trash, mouths that caused clash
After clash
She isn’t to blame, the little girl in her cave
After all
She was never well-versed in their ways
She followed desires, so base...never let up the chase
Couldn’t conform to the parade-like pace
They got leather, when they wanted lace
So they sent her far from the place
Where for hours she plodded, downtrodden through
Petty dramas, silly fights, saucy ‘tudes, pretty lies
They sent her back to the cave
Can’t be helped, you might say
She was never well-versed in their ways
And doesn’t care for much these days