Though she sank into that crystal gloom.
Where memories dwell and history hangs.
She smiled, not to the departure.
Or the trauma she would never know.
But to herself.
For though her life was diminishing.
Fogging up her eyes and silently singing lullabies.
She had chosen the means, the time and the space.
She was the ruler of this small endeavour.
All on her own terms.
Absent of the eyes, or the tongues that criticised.
Or the tiny push.
She controlled the moment that quivered in her soft small hands.
Only she knew how it was to end.
An Empress of her own demise.
Beautifully penned!!! That second line.. ❤
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Thank you. Was a gloomy piece, but silent defiance.
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Sometimes a little gloom is perfect 🙂 You’re welcome!!
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Oh my. Beautiful piece, Mark. Simply magical.
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Thank you, that was the theme i was aiming for so glad it hit the mark!
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It most certainly did.
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In charge, of her own fate, letting, nothing else, and no one, dictate, how her life, should, be…
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Exactly. In charge till the end.
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Yes. To the Empress in all of us. 🍷
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Long may she rule
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👑
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I don’t think you like the character you created in this poem
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Hmm, on the fence perhaps. I like the defiance.
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I very much enjoyed this
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That pleases me!
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