Devastation

My own facade - a fraud

My performance grand - you may applaud.

Yet tis a sorrowful tale as set

She gave up all herself

for woe and regret

of a life that could have been -

alas, tis not.

Instead she sits alone in rot

Her insides once afire -

now ash.

Her dreams that once were dreamt -

now dashed.

Her youth that smoldered with sex and zest

has now faded like all the rest.

Choices made -

Now lessons learnt.

Luscious landscapes all have burnt.

In soot she sits alone in thought.

Boundless colors long forgot

Hot pinks are now exchanged for dust.

Turquoise seas have turned to rust.

Florescent yellow suns have set.

Vermillion scarlet feathers fret.

She sifts the ash with both her hands.

Dreaming of those distant lands.

Running free in fields of green.

How can a pauper have been a queen...