The weekend dies
She begins to cry
It started when she cut her hair
Ten months have passed
Her hair is now longer
Her weekend started to flourish
She is, now, nothing compared to how she was
She is the same person, just not malnourished
She learned to fly and live again
She knew that when the time comes
She, no longer, is held by the memory
She decided to let go of the things that slow her down
She decided to accept how things are not meant to be
She was down but she was taller than ever
Her hair is now longer
But she was reminded that the tides get high and low
Regardless of whether she is fast or slow
The sun does not give up on shining
Just because her tears are increasing
She realized that she is in control of her life
The weekend is out
But she will not be out.

January 15 2017
3:20 AM