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I’m a Trojan horse, a bruised petal.
Lucky, unlucky. Helpless, empowered.
I feel the poison tingle in my veins.

I’m as light as a feather, but as heavy as the mountain I tread upon.
My days so long, as my life seems so short.
Too tired to have shame, yet when I have the strength I blush.

Surprised by my see saw of emotion.
I keep on keeping on.
My spirit almost seems brighter from this dark, place I reside.

In the shadows light can grow, from a seed, rendered clean and pure of intention.
It seems more pristine in contrast to this heavy dark

I hold onto the light and try to pass the torch on. In doing so I see it shine brighter
Maybe this is the lesson learnt.
Give without measure to alleviate the darkness for good