The holy book says that, “Many are the afflictions of the righteous.” But righteousness skipped a bit from her path.
The afflictions grow with each sunset, getting her to wonder whether she truly is. Her pillow knows the taste of her tears.
With each sunset, it demands for more of that salty liquid filled with mixed emotions.
Beneath the trenchcoat lies it all. The scars and bruises of the trauma’s. No surgery can heal them, and no medicine can remedy them.
With the years, they seem to crawl much more deeper.
She wonders where the silver spoon dropped off. Where the adversary took control. Where he overshadowed the great light.
A touch stirs it all up. Affection infects it with fear. “Am I really worth it?” She asks herself.
The devastation takes control. Covering the pride and faith that once was. Shattering every dream ever dreamt.
She curses that fateful day of September. That day she made the first cry. Wishing to have started with a laughter to seal the fate.
They assume she is alright. They take her smiles and unending sarcasm as happiness.
But deep down she wishes for more. To see the light. For the bruises to heal. For her to take off the trenchcoat with no shame and walk shoulder’s high.
She longs for the day of redemption. The day of love and healing. The day of genuine hugs and words.
She longs for the rest that is assured forever.
