Who is she?

Removed from the stir of society,
Damned be the world, rebel, she be?
A little of the world, yet none at all,
With yesterdays' tints and a hope for redemption, who she be?

Underneath layers of silent screaming insecurities,
Little by little, she'll kill you. Con woman, is she?
As unapologetic as the sea,
Tranquil one moment, turbulent the next.
A disorienting darkness for a day
Rose hued rays of a morning sun for the night
A charming myth in an appalling reality
A beautiful lie in a scandalous truth
An unpainted portrait, an unwritten poetry
Who can turn a sinner into a saint, a saint a sinner.

She is that she was taught, that she was loved
She is that you let her see, that she was let be
She loves when wars reign, she loves like love can never learn
With eyes as dark as ink, reflecting your own life's follies.

In her own little quests and discovery, in a self made laboratory
Living in a misanthropists' heaven, tussling time's fine masonry
We've all sought and yet lived with her
We've all fought to not be her-
Isnt she the one residing in you. Isnt she you?





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