shepoet

She travels many journeys alone, She travels many journeys a lone. A lone who hopes to find peace. A lone who hopes to pick each piece. Pieces from a rain of your painful reign. She travels many internal journeys She travels long and far. With questions from the penitentiary, Even with years gone she is still in the discovery Trying the recovery but she still feels dirty. Muddy from your hands and artillery. She grew a shell to cover her empty heart, Made her barriers too wide, Built her walls too high, Dug her valleys too deep. She buried her soul in ice. Yet she still feels like that child. She is grown and thirty, She is a glow and curvy, She is an envy and in the army. Strong. Fancy. Beauty. Mighty But deep inside she is empty. She is angry, because of the pain she has to carry Iced in the past, chained to misery. x