What can happen in five hundred days, I wonder.
For some it can be a time of grief and misunder;
For others, it can be a time of peace and joy.
Some use this time to build, others to destroy.
Five hundred days might feel like five days,
Or even five hundred years, such long stay.
But only when it is everything together,
That we know what truly matters.
A time to live, a time to die;
A time to land, a time to fly;
A time to forget, a time to remember;
A time to fight, a time to surrender.
It is past now, but it is part of me.
After five hundred days, I am finally free.
Reborn, recreated, reinvented.
I can finally find myself contented.
Free-fall, blinded by joy, life is a blessing.
Fearless, free-minded, never again depressing.
I have come from a war, and this is my victory.
No matter what I’ve lost, I have made History.
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The Mind of a Lady - Poetry Collection
PoetryA poetic form of the thoughts of a lady.
