They turn their backs on her
She -- a fragmented masterpiece. She was once up on the pedestal, adored by many but now a broken person. No one sees her, and maybe, just maybe nobody remembers her anymore.
She was loved when she was perfect, when she was complete, when she was pretty. But now, nobody cares... She's lost -- a wanderer, looking for redemption.
She tried asking for help, even begged on her knees. But when people saw how scarred she was, how impure she was, they turned their backs on her.
She was mad but sadness overpowers her emotions. She was crestfallen for those people, for they were so shallow, feebleminded. They only see beauty, perfection and chasteness. They shun those who lack such qualities.
She was once a paragon of such. Until she woke up one day to find herself exploited by the same people who adored her. Being the generous she was, she never objected. She let them squeeze everything she has until she was left with nothing, not even her reputation.
And now here she is, peeping on a window glass of a renown function hall of a club -- one which she was once a member.
I see her, and even I cringe at the very sight of her. I look at her eyes, sorrow is evident in them. Now I see myself clearly through the window glass...
-ds-
YOU ARE READING
Collectanea
General FictionWhen you've got no one to talk to, you tend to have a gazillion of thoughts... At one point you think your head would explode so you pour them out on a blank paper, creating a masterpiece and when you're done, maybe you'll stash them somewhere compl...
