The Broken Prestige
As she took a step under a desolated roof,
there speaks a cold symphony of ferocious screams,
shattering every light bulb in a blink of an eye,
tearing precious jewelries into forgotten fragments.
As if she left her footprints on a forbidden path,
trying to balance herself at the edge of a sword,
and below of which,
lie countless of unwanted thorns.
Nonetheless, did she had a choice
but to dwell in her reality.
And with this…
She heard nothing
but only the woes of the frail,
the scratches of the raging claws,
and the unheard screams of the deadly silence.
And with this...
She saw nothing
but only the fractured reflections,
the dried tears from fragile windows of souls,
and the silhouette of an atrocious tragedy.
And with this…
She felt nothing
but only a cold blanket of rejection,
a sore from the aftermath of the fray,
and the disturbing atmosphere of a thunderous storm.
Yet, with this…
She stood firm
in the middle of a scourging battle,
and sought for the light to find her might.
There, she faced her ugly reality with her beautiful soul.
Although now, she holds the triumph in her palms,
there, her wound still lies under her flesh
for the unforgiving bullets had shot her so deep
that this, her pain,
will always haunt as she lives.
But look at this woman now,
there grew a laurel on top of her crown.
Her smile grew so wide,
as genuine as pure white.
Now, she’s stronger than her dying unpleasant past.
This, because her soul is astounding,
like the firmest stem of the most stunning flower,
that blooms after the sun rises for the seasons,
and never dies even when the sun stops to rise.
This, I tell you for she is my inspiration,
the savior of my dying motivation.
For the broken is the stupendous,
and yes, my mother is the true prestigious.