Weeping

Across a lined face…

…an abused soul…

…and a savaged mind…

…realization splashes

As daydreams and optimisms…

…entreaties and philosophies…

…contentment and devotion…

…crashes

And melancholy…

…prejudice and ignorance…

…arrogance and deceit…

…bathes in cashes

 

Into scorching wasteland she trudges

While feeling society’s grudges

And knowing her providence is most unkempt;

A hell where her heart is already kept

 

Settling in her eyes…

…mutating her values…

…and disgracing her existence…

…was an unrecognizable mark

Whilst her cognizance capitulates to the dark

And Madam Winter whispers in her ear,

“Death is nothing to fear.”