(*＾3＾）/～☆~~~~~

Pencil entwined on lean fingers--
Scratching on pages like a hopeless singer,
Lyrics to be heard was what she wished
Not of songs but of dreams to flourish.

Age five, she looked up to secure
Scores on chapters, perfectly high,
Etched unto life's crooked path--
Aims that now flew to grey sky.

Arrived never at the window sill of her study room
Luminosity not rekindling since then,
As she forwared descending into doom,
Pondered she, "To win, but when?"

"I wrote and read ; failed yet,
Marks not on point, to me a threat,
Grand like tormentors that inflicted
Anxiety on my mind, how precisely strict!"

If I now the harbinger of her,
Travel back in time fixing scars,
Bring news like blossoming petals
Convince her childhood to get settled.

Skeptical still of myself
Of abilities unfurnished
Reashape her to a greater me,
Enlightening her for the world to see.





© mimmiki