Frosted Marble Poem by Duaa Ali Duaa

Drinking from the bloody cup of revenge.

My role is like a dice always out of range.

A graven bullet in my heart has rusted.

Stabbed in my throat by the one I trusted

The sweet chocolate is now grimy mud.

My walls burned in lava like a tiny hut.

Changing fate is an attempt to split water.

In the darkness, my breath got colder and colder.

Running through an endless way on floor of frosted marble.

Although people said it will be just a short ramble.

Now my fingertips like lavenders purple but without scent.

My feet red as roses because of the running hours I spent.

Here tears freeze before meeting the ground.

Only what you hear is your lungs and beats sound.

Layers of blackness covered my heart.

Only whiteness can sew the torn part.

Will the light sneak through a Marvel crack?

Will my life come back?