White bandage
"This is a scene of what lies really look like, not like a roaring menacing lion but like a green praying mantis that will eventually, strike..."
She questioned herself, twisted in her refusal to accept
Who's to know? What will it be like?
To know... To illuminate... Scintillating the truth
Stumbling around the corners
Of mind and soul, seeking
The traverse of speeches and preachings
What's left? but a lump of talk
Weariness of walking, hardness of frustration...
Hopes drowned in confusion
The sea of what could be, taste of old age
Eyes that do not want to cry or see more
Spirit that does not die in adversity
Choosing a lonely path, leaving
Not being in the present, past or future
Dreaming without soul, submerging in blind stupor
The unpunctual, arrived early, untimely
Like moody poltergeist
She herself, crumbled without disintegration
She put on bandages and garments, white
So that she would be seen as a saint while lying