Are you still oppressed, wondering when you'll be free?
Are you wondering how far you can go to make your dream a reality?
Can you taste the salt in your tears, can you feel the rent in your heart?
Can you still imagine anything beautiful, perhaps the scent of a holly, or the musk of a wild unicorn?
A full belly houses an empty soul,
Torn, battered, ripped apart.
A flourished mind, on the pinnacle of success,
Signals a broken heart to cry some more.
Yet the eyes, the window to the empty soul,
Dry and raw, ache and pain, burn in the cold,
Where the warm tears would bring salvation, a moment's respite;
Perhaps, will balm the singed, burnt, heart, and maybe, just maybe would rekindle the dying embers of dreams,
And maybe, just maybe, the puppet will be living again, instead of sucking empty air,
Into a body long gone cold, long lost its soul.
*Images used don't belong to me
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