Too late

They say I’m too little,

For a change that I desire,

Too shy for a rebel.

 

Too late I say,

Already swimming,

In a pool of fire.

Burning in rage.

 

They say I’ve changed,

Drifting from sanity,

Stumbling already.

 

Too late I say,

Already a queen,

Among the blind,

Hearing the saga

Of their cries.

 

They say I should paint,

A stroke of dust on my face,

To hide my unpredictability.

 

Too late I say,

Already in love,

With tainted eyes,

Freckled skin and

Bleeding veins.

 

They say I am doomed,

Won’t survive long,

Disintegrating into dust.

 

Too late I say,

Already seen the void,

Survived the war,

Befriended the ants

Crawling on me as

I lie on the ground.

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