tore my book of memories
Page by page line after line
Looking for What was once mine
Roses squashed between pages reminded me of me.
Haunted with crippled dreams.
And embearyal hopes
No Cries were heard
no tears were wiped
the moans of broken pried were barred
Oh I know no mantra can gather a trifling soul.
No healing of those rotted-fears
No new pages to redo what has been don
No such fairytales
Cinderella has no crystal shoe
Nor a charming prince.
Or a pumpkin carriage
Puled by rats wich will vanish.
by twelve o’clock
Oh no no no no.
Ashes will still fill her eyes.
Embers will still inflame under her feet no fairytales
no angels no witches
no poisoned apples
No such a thing named luck
Just a pure misfortune .
© Zara H. Mosa . All rights reserved