Sometimes i grieve for my innocence lost.
My hands covered in the blood of my ancestral hopes.
Like shattered glass                                 my dreams lay etched reflecting the broken sky.
The stench of gunpowder and forgotten mistakes perfume the air.
My eyes swollen and my vision impaired,
like frosted glass i am suspended in time.
the memory of who i am…
the vision of who i will be…
The pride of my folks,
wained under self loathing and disappointment.
Though hidden behind sunshine,
and hope.
Suspended in time,
my body shivers,
for anxiety is my new neighbour.
My heart grows weary,
and in its chambers where a soul once resided,
now barren of hope.
But my mind of mistakes,
ever so bold.
And my innocence for life,
long since distasteful.
Now only a dark forest grows,
swallowing the very sun which brings life to it.
And thus trekking in the forages,
of forgotten hope
and misplaced pride
along with shattered dreams
and hazy memories,
i grieve for my innocence lost.


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