The Child in Me

A child, just she

Wishes be set free

From thornly grasps

Will I ride for dawn

Shall I flee?

 

The storm she rides

High up, goes the tides

It ain’t smooth

But so she soothes

As she sways by side

 

In darkness she mourned

The demons she owned

With sheer thin strikes

New veils come to sight

There she stood, Alone!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *