She fights for her thoughts as an indomitable warrior
fights for the people’s liberation from
The nights of terror that must unface
She sings the hymn of the soul and the Divine
the music of quietness that shouts at the ears
of arteries beneath the chest that beats
She listens to her own breath
She cries and sobs the bitter-sweet angst
She weeps
again
like a child and a century old mistress
of life.
She counts the hours with daydreams
and colors it with illusions
Alive as the crimson, and multitude of memoirs
She scribbles with her blood
She dances with her silhouette and the trees
to the air that seduces
her cerebral to ecstatic serenity
She frees
and freezes from the coldness that
hypnotizes her spirit to an ephemeral escape
She smells fragrance in beguiling pages as it transcends
her to antiquity and ages
She kisses every impending notion voices may arouse
and argues with her sensibility
She devours their charm of wisdom like a hungry wild
She lives in an empty sheet.
where she finds a sacred asylum
The ink blots
She awakens her sanity
(April 22, 2012)

photo from pinterest
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