There you are!
Decrepit remains of Ozymandias,
I’ve traveled through many arid lands and dunes
to find you here:
eroding, half-buried,
and alone.

Your sneer of cold command
gets my blood to boil still.
I press my hand to your stone visage,
and weep:

Listen, I am no villain, except
in every word you twisted.

You placed a crown upon your broken heart,
and destroyed my history.
You reduced me
to a cruel and callous girl
who left you to wither in the dessert.

Once, my small arms clung
to the hem of your royal cloth,
and I followed you on foot
through the world’s most unforgiving terrain.

The sun boiled my flesh.
Thirst shriveled my lungs,
and you, some King of Kings,
failed to protect even his own child.

I begged you for water.
Do you remember my little knees wobbling,
after you kicked me in the stomach?

I fell on my face and tasted the sand.
Your figure disappeared in the horizon,
and you went on to unfold lies,
while the winds of a desert storm
whipped my skin raw.

It’s been years.
Scars embellish my body,
and the grit of sand still catches in my mouth,
but I found a new home,
with soft grass and fresh water
beneath my bare feet
and a gentle breeze on my cheek.

I did not die here,
in this desert with you
and that is enough for me.