It is of a lonely figure,
A statue etched so fine:
A little one so helpless,
So saddened, and divine.
That when she came to view it,
She saw what others could not:
Her own face reflected,
Something she'd forgot.
For with the pain came hope,
And with the sorrow, prayer.
And when she could take no more,
She let go of her despair.
She spoke to God and asked of Him,
"Why did you leave me here?"
And He answered her directly:
"It is not I who keeps you there."
She looked into herself then,
For hope and faith her own,
And realized, without a doubt,
Her life was her's alone.
She took what she had left,
A new life her's to form.
So when she gazed upon the state,
She knew from that she had transformed.
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Comments
--
Don't get in my way, I've got a score to settle.
The blood I hunt is stain enough on my hands and I don't wish to add yours to it.
Now move, insolent dog, lest your name be added to my list of murders.
~Kiara
The title is alright,
not as bad as you say it is
Good luck reaching that end of yours, if you haven't. ^^
--
Sounds of freedom make me want to try.
--
Don't get in my way, I've got a score to settle.
The blood I hunt is stain enough on my hands and I don't wish to add yours to it.
Now move, insolent dog, lest your name be added to my list of murders.
~Kiara
It was the best I could come up with that seemed relevantly fitting.
--
Sounds of freedom make me want to try.
It's alright
Try reading my poems ^^
I wrote them yesterday x]
--
A wallaby in a boat waving a fish... Odd...but strangely appetizing.
--
Sounds of freedom make me want to try.
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