No one left to wipe her tears
No soul to embrace
Shattered promises and shattered hearts
She thinks, she ponders.
What is this? She prays.
When the walls listen better
when the darkness feels brighter
And the ghost's hug better.
Dissonant it is, she cannot sustain
tears turning sweet,
actions turning pale,
Is this what she wanted? she woefully contemplates.
She places herself at the edge of sorrow
feeling facetious and morrow,
even when not alone, her words echo
going deeper and deeper, shallow.
unable to differentiate the words,
wife or maid?
No identity of her own,
Feelings decayed.
Called as the wife, daughter, or mater.
Will she be able to live like this hereafter?
Maybe the little girl could explain as she embrace
how this is not love, my future self,
You have to escape.