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VICTIMIZED
Broken Yet Brave.
Masked yet Plain.
Drunk yet Sane.
Is a tale not stale.
Inked to the core
With colours of gloom and doom,
She inched to the side
With thoughts of crushing tales.
Her soul had no reprieve,
For she felt stuffed with broken dreams.
Dreams shattered like shards,
As a signal to things lost.
She looked back at the days of old,
When she was filled with hope to the brim.
How then could it drown,
In the dawn of sheltered beams?
Deep within her soul,
She moved the shuffling of cards
Which had the pictures of beings
That signaled the end of dreams.
There was no time for tears.
For the years lost could not be gained.
The hand of shame
Was forever circled in her stake.
Ridiculed she must bear.
Crushed she must bear.
For her life was dear
To the fox of the air.
© favody
Masked yet Plain.
Drunk yet Sane.
Is a tale not stale.
Inked to the core
With colours of gloom and doom,
She inched to the side
With thoughts of crushing tales.
Her soul had no reprieve,
For she felt stuffed with broken dreams.
Dreams shattered like shards,
As a signal to things lost.
She looked back at the days of old,
When she was filled with hope to the brim.
How then could it drown,
In the dawn of sheltered beams?
Deep within her soul,
She moved the shuffling of cards
Which had the pictures of beings
That signaled the end of dreams.
There was no time for tears.
For the years lost could not be gained.
The hand of shame
Was forever circled in her stake.
Ridiculed she must bear.
Crushed she must bear.
For her life was dear
To the fox of the air.
© favody
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