What is ignorance
But another face of arrogance,
Wisely chosen to believe in
Cantankerous cackles of a misfit
Over air borne signals,
To the only blood minimally worthy
Of pompous cries of valour in the battlefield, she spoke,
If the arrow of extra meat ever found her.
Her tired jowl and
Always sad scowl sighed,
She could endure
The poison her lover drank
And walk the darkness through blindness with
No sticks and pities required.
Will she be forgiven by the deities
Of her tribe?
Will she be laughed at by the children
With tales of jibe?
Forsaken by waves of mirthless merriment
Across the room,
She ruminates of all the galaxies to feast on
Had she loved a little more.
Will she have peace
In her silent thoughts
Of absolutely silent nothings.
Haunted by a heartburn of undigested concoctions
Of loss,remorse and musings now
For life is a cycle of moments,
More so gray when living through them
But evermore greener when looking at them,
Had she held a palette of colours and a paintbrush of wit,
To imbue yellow into the stones of blue
And stroke a right red
As the mightiest of hues.