STOIC

🌻BITTERSWEET

Time, is cruel.

It flow freely like the water of a falls - that of the calming sound of every waves that trickle and kiss the shore every day it pass. Though time approves that of the beauty of life and blossoms the happiness of beings on Earth, such ethereal is deranged.

In lieu, time is carnage. Never once did it wait for anyone to act nor stop when they are in their own cave of darkness. Time can be one's friend... or their grueling nemesis, for time is both light and darkness.

But what if time, once again, is a friend and nemesis for such a poor soul? That the light aflame from thy eyes dull its shine along with the calm smile thy wore. Akin to that of a grey sky crying - kissing the greenery, lush with spiralled beauty she cowered, not in fear, but of grief.

For once more, time took everything that she held dear. That the endless grumble of it as it tickle, further shattered the poor, selfless soul she bear. The little glimpse of light in her shadowed world was no more as the treasure secured, stolen.

In respect, the way of the truth opened. And that instead of the once calm demeanour she bore, grief and remorse was what could be seen. Pores opened as perspiration occured along with the erratic pulsation of her core and the almost cut off breathing.

The lane of which approved to glimpse behind the path she's taking, hunted her almost every turning of the sky into raven. That of what painted her visage, one could see the pain she continously bear. Nevertheless, none had taken into account to view deep within what she held. That she had been a marionette with an endless, raging storm within. Cracks bear proof of the battles she had gone with none a feat. She's literally breaking, and none knew of that.

Albeit, the night is still in its might. The calming shine of the moon through the window of the abode she rest unto, probes the being in from the darkness of the room.

Her eyes glittered as she view the enthralling light above, yet her lips pursed as her being shook in trepidation. She seeks the evening breeze - its sense of calmness and peace.

Thus, the scrunching sound of grass echoed in the still night, feet made way - searching for something known yet unknown. Up until locks swayed along the fresh, calming wind, she walks. Events of the years came pouring, as if rain, to her mind.

Beautiful pair of orbs showed unfocused. The light that brought forth life to her being, dimmed its shine. She looked dull and lifeless. Her overall stature screamed that of darkness itself. She looked like a stranger in a familiar mask. That, like a flower in a meadow of which bloomed, she was one that withered, yet profusely fought to stay alive.

She bleu.

The moon shone its rare view of crimson,

Right where the greenery of lush, faded red and orange,

A silhouette stood,

Its stature faces the people with its back.

All that could be seen, was the flowing locks

swaying along the autumn breeze.

Yet, none knew

of the face thy held at front.

It was a poem of the book she loved - beautiful, yet tragic. Like the life of hers.

In melody of the rhythm of the coming summer breeze, lips parted as words flowed like that of a river. Unlike the beauty she holds, her song was painful. Though her voice stayed with calmness, the eyes of hers showed the broken being she truly is.