A safe haven of bliss,
crumbled to the ground.
Every grain of dust,
like shrapnel, flies around.
Was this all it was?
A facade of illusion.
Was it so weak?
A breath away from ruin.
The cozy warmth of an ember,
flames licking up the sky.
Ashes raining down,
Like death, poured soot.
Is this what it is?
A stab to so deep.
Will it ever return?
A haven so safe.
As a little girl,
I was read fairy tales.
Tales of a strong and handsome Prince,
who’ll sweep me off my feet,
and take my breath away.
I believed I found him,
time and time again,
instead I met beasts,
whose beauty had long faded away.
Every time I believed,
I met a beast that was new,
I met Pain, I met Betrayal,
I met Fear, I met Sorrow,
I met Malice, I met Evil,
I met Sin, I met the Devil.
Through all this I wondered,
Will I ever find a Prince?
Is it just for Princesses?
Was I a Princess too?
It then dawned on me,
That I need no Prince,
I needed to believe,
to believe in myself, my strength,
to believe that I could and that I will.
That my story wasn’t a fairy tale,
that I wasn’t a Princess,
For my tale was of a Warrior,
that I am a Warrior Queen.
I remember our yesterday,
all was new,
we saw everything but grey,
when everything was a first.
I will remember our today,
everything we knew,
we were unbothered by the grey,
with memories old and new.
I hope for our tomorrow,
to see if we grew,
if we’ll see the colours in the grey,
and if there’ll be firsts that are new
Furrows between her brows,
puffed out cheeks,
pouted lips,
a playful joy.
An expressionless mask,
a still visage,
blank eyes,
curving into a smile.
A deeply curved frown,
a blurry stare,
piercing face,
an expressionless wall.
An unforgiving glare,
thin, pursed lips,
hollowed cheeks,
furrows between her brows.
Sailing on,
drifting with the waves,
the waves of life,
away from home.
Standing up,
erect on your own,
your own two feet,
free from home.
Looking back,
far into the horizon,
into the horizon of youth,
wishing for home.
Longing deep,
endlessly into nostalgia,
the endless need,
for a place to call Home.
Dying or dead,
one of suffering,
one of freedom,
shedding or shed.
Lying or laid,
one of pain,
one of grief,
praying or prayed.
Fading or faded,
one faint,
one silent,
dreading or dreaded.
Fleeing or fled,
one happening,
one history,
bleeding or bled.
A matter straight,
two egos great,
for them, fate,
no room for regret.
A mere trait,
growing twice in rate,
filling into its crate,
an opening for regret.
A deadly trait,
spread at an alarming rate,
consuming its crate,
the time for regret.
A glare straight,
two distances great,
a self-destructive fate,
the weight of regret.
Scared, as she drifted to sleep,
Daddy,take a look! She said,
Please take a little peep,
there are monsters under my bed.
Soon she slept, calm and deep,
Daddy! I’m no longer afraid,
please get rest, count some sheep,
the monsters are all gone and dead.
Then she lay, awake in a heap,
Daddy, help me.Silently she prayed,
please, through the night, her quiet weep,
the monsters are alive in my head.
