Shedding the Past
No need to wish
to change the hand of time,
If how life is approached has not changed.
The unsung songs of the little girl
trapped inside the woman's body
has caused the shades of the night to descend
and left her on sinking sand grasping for air
and finally when She gets some,
It's an ill wind.
Lord have mercy
I am shedding the past,
burn it to ashes
and turn it's ashes into charcoal painting.
When tomorrow comes
Past-dwellers would be looking for my old self
From the living.
I hope Ravens would keep them company.
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