As I stood on this crippled ground
I found myself scattered across the cracks.
As I looked up into the sky
I saw nothing but shadows.
The creaking sound of the bed I laid in sounded vicious.
Like it was singing the song of my misery.
The misery which gave birth to the character of my life story.
The girl without a home.
Born in a place she never was in.
Sang with a voice she had never heard.
Knew people she had never met.
The girl born after she lived
the life of someone she had never met before.
Was it her? Was it me? Was it she?
Her eyes made of glass broke into pieces
scattered on the floor and filled the cracks.
She laid in bed and saw the shadows of the sky
which immortalized the nothing she had been.
As she woke upon the moment she was born
her eyes renewed , silk dripping from them.
Flowers growing from the cracks
of her old creaking floor.
Songs sounding from the strings of her immortal soul.
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