Her confusion paves the path she leads,
As her shackles sparks the way with every movement, The cold grey metal impresses itself to her ankle, No artist required, The canvas forms it's natural impression, A purple residue rests. The morning shine bounces off the facial canvas, A dot momentarily stains the canvas with its backlash, Her pale infestered skin fails to shine. Hope is no more, She hikes Mount Everest in flip flops, That consistent inner pain reminding the troubles that lie ahead, Constantly being pulled back by her shackles, She persists in the morning light, For nightfall has no boundaries. Night brings no sleep or satisfaction, It is a ticking clock for light, A revolving hand that persists. Persistence is immense, A never ending trial for each enduring party, The light is a game, Fresh eyes are bright, Until night arrives, Down rests her head. Considerations, replays and morning plans commence, Waiting for the morning beacon to stir its head.
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Mary DohertyJust a blog to post some of the offerings I create in my spare time. I hope you enjoy! Archives
September 2019
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