Identify

There's a little girl locked away.

She cries out as the days tick by.
If I turn to others she cries out louder.
She wants to be free.
To live her life, not what others have defined.

I bang my head against her cell.
I debate.
I indulge.
The idea to let her go.

But then I back away.
I watch her hands try to reach me.
Try to pull me back for the key.

I'm sorry me.
It's to late.
I've come this far.
I can't turn back.
I'm afraid of who you'll really be.