My tea's gone cold
A frozen dream
A cup I can't hold
It's too bold
Too bold to capture
The grasp
That slips through my face
Forming a hidden mask
Please unfold
Bring to life the path of my tears, my fears
My everlasting drear
That holds
My career near and oh so dear
Hope is so close
I can almost taste it
But death is so relieving
I somehow embrace it
As if I'm the writer of my own life
And the creator of my own strife
The bible declares that I am royal diadem
A Queen
But it seems
Whatsoever a man thinks
So shall he be
Well what does that mean?
That my hopeless fate
Is seen in my face?
That my hate
Shall remain till my grave?
Or shall I awake?
Will my burden
Inscribed on this paper
Relieve this morbid behavior.
So that I may indeed labor
My pain and grief
And be hailed as savoir?
written by my little sister
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem