Which way?

17 Mar

Sitting at the corner of the bed
A solitary tear trickles down her rosy face;
Eyes close: Blankness sets in as she wonders…
why did she take the chance again?

Was it meant only till here?
The faith and trust that she put in,
Was she so blind? Was she so daft?
To believe every little word.

A gush of wind, few rocks on the path,
Fetters of selfishness,
Every word forgotten and
every little promise left behind.

Moonlight peeps into oblivious eyes,
Dreams shattered – Broken beyond repair…
What is hope and belief?
Will she ever live again?

Scared, agitated, wounded …
Blankness returns; asks which way?
Sitting at the corner of the bed, she waits;
A solitary tear trickles down her rosy face again.

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