There was once a fair skin lady
With a cold grey heart
In her cradle of misery and despair
Lay a soul wanting to be free from it all
A sinner lay in a vessel so holy
A deceiver who told the truth in her silence
Pointed out in the wrong direction
Sitting in the corner as life takes its toll
It’s as if being strong is the only option she had
Caught in somewhere between the blur and the clear
And giving up was not an option but rather a willing death
The ache of her soul consumes her existence
And willing to live or to die is neither a choice nor an option
Trapped outside her own history
Losing herself and keeping this world
Swept away by the winds of change and modernism
Unable to retrace her steps and lost
The whispers and confessions eat the thoughts she has
Considering centuries passed and she’s on her knees
Praying to a god as he mocks her credence
Existence like old wood with dry leaves
Ancestors whispering in her roots and haunt her
Locked out from her own being all she sees are shadows
All she heard was whispers and flailing echoes
Caught in the war that she has lost and won
A war which captured her dreams and crushed them for her to only re-dream
A war that made her adore her conqueror and despise herself
Sailing unanchored on trouble seas
Never allowing shore to set her soul free
Her joys never happy enough
Her sorrows never sad enough
Her dreams never big enough
Her existence never important enough
Who I am? Who I am not? And who I want to be?
Lost and insecure sitting in the corner as life passes her by
Watching the clock tick away as her decay proceeds to be
taken from the blog bano95.wordpress.com
