She, from the river-city, that huddles into the far sides of the remote and troubled country
Her thoughts as troubled as her country, bound to long uttered words, meaningless then
Heavy on her heart now, weighing her down, into an abyss of unanswered questions
She, from the river-city, that holds her head high, even though her eyes are filled with salty remorse, with incrimination and with pain.
Her beauty muffled by a past that is no longer hers, her mind, once souring, held into shackles by men, who were blind and malicious
She, from the river-city, is starlight, born from a fiery end that forbade her grace, molded her pristine spirit, that unyielding strength, that no pain could bend, no insult could besmirch
At the end of a long night awaits the reinvigorating smile upon her worried brow, that tells her about the light, as there is only light, light that braces the scorn, that eases the pain, that heals, what was wounded.
There is only light and you are starlight, my starlight
There is only light
Toutes les droites appartiennent à son auteur Il a été publié sur e-Stories.org par la demande de Mike Arnold.
Publié sur e-Stories.org sur 19.03.2023.
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