Friday, 18 December 2009


On her 50th she wept.

Tears of joy, struggle and achievements she looked beautiful, dressed in the finest attire gold and white matching with a smile as if she saw the almighty in person.
These salty tears share bitterness, let downs. People acting either like clowns and some she thought she'd never doubt. Each drop contained a memory some more potent than others.
She Looks around and views her entourage in abundance, today she finally understands friendship and what it entails, singing to the hymns she takes to the floor letting her spirit unwind, you tell me 50 I beg to differ for she moves as if she's no where near. Eyes capture the sparkles of her design, she moves in rhythm for this is more than a celebration this is her vent, her moment of realising the troubles she went through to get to the position she is currently in.
A man using a female as the guidance to find is feet is talk some would dare not speak but its the truth, and through the growth at some point she clipped my wings leaving the world to be mine for the taking.

She is beauty, She is strength,

God lives in her as she radiates in winter, heads wonder.
Clueless to the inner being they live their lives with eyes closed who are you seeing?

Avoidance from reality prevents your soul from feeling... Hence why her tears were of joy! Not pain, rather.. healing.


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