Hi! another one of my complex but so deep works. Please read and rate it.
People didn't appeal to her any hour of the day
she was a girl of what they called
"bizarre thoughts"
for they didn't coincide with
"societal protocols"
I followed her,
see her talk to the stray animals of strange streets
as if she had known them all along
see her live beneath her tree
as if she was born from it's very roots
I lived in the amuse,
the amuse of frightening tenebrosity of misjudged aroma
of her pages that scared away people
for inks to the inhumane script describing humanity
I recorded the sins she committed
for she didn't fear the blades decorated with invisible blood of green
for she didn't complain of the pain of impure red,
for she didn't carry the inherent (spineless) fragility of white,
for she knew the power of words and volume,
for she knew the pace and strength of horse.
for she knew the 'people' more than themselves
for she knew- their dark side under their veils
Was it her abnormal reality? They never asked
But one day, I faced the fear everyone else did
the fear of knowing my fear
for sitting 5 yards away, wearing a dagger heart
and the eyes that knew nothing but everything
called my skin, in a voice enough to engulf me
she knew my footprints behind her
amplifying the words unheard
"who killed your dad?"
It had been 19 years of my life
and I knew she had the answer
The rock I sat on was wet in her ache
For she taught me answers
I could only energize "why did you"