PETALS OF PAIN
A solitary tear escapes my eye,
As poignant thoughts shuffle my decor.
If only I could rewrite the script, defy,
To release the burden that anchor my core.
"Why me?" reverberates through the ventricles, mummified,
Ripped apart by destiny's cruel spell.
In this moment of truth, I stand crucified,
Awaiting light to penetrate each cell.
Acquaintances revel in my agony,
As I waddle through the puddles,
Tripped by the weight of bitter irony,
In molasses-like mean shackles.
Yet I strive to rise from the ashes of fire,
As cadavers of self-pity unleash,
Infusing life into a desert's sapphire,
Elevating my spirit—hope as a feast.
Copyright © Jeta Buch | Year Posted 2024
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