Nonproprietary

It has no name, that which presses weight upon her head
A steer of wind, a vortex of a gloomy gorge, rough and blustery.
In her genteel heart, there is emptiness, and she bears the weight of an anchor
She does not seem to care, nor want to, yet she craves entirety
There is a heavy stone inside her head, and she cannot bear
Yet it has no name, whatever that is.
I warned her, and yet in my belligerence, my words came true
She did not care, ‘’After all, what does it matter to lose one soul,
Millions have been lost in ages,’’
The voice from her laughter, so calming yet her eyes gave a stern glare
The false conviction in her gait, her neck so high, disguising her fearfulness
Hankering a little insecure girl in deep want of love and passion yet with fear of uncertainty.

She fails to make meaning of life.
She breathes but does not really feel alive, she smiles but is never happy
The face she wears out in the open is ripped into a forlorn and sad grimace at sunset
She looks at the desire of her heart heretofore she cannot claim
Her lips burn, her hair stand, and her skin tingles
But she cannot allow herself to be vulnerable, her heart burns and her head pounds

The full moon comes, and the old pain of torment
And the fear that she might never find what she is not looking for yet desire
She is uncertain of what might be of her being alone, or of courting.
A stone rests upon her heart so heavy,
And on it, there is no name, no answer to her troubles
Only one truth, that she is bound to suffer with every breath she takes
Her duty conflicts with her heart, she knows not whether it is too late to turn back from duty and away from desire
Broken, solitary, and under the scrutiny of those she much hides her feelings from
And when she hears a baritone voice, her heart skips a beat
Silence follows, and her soul dances, but a memory of her life’s meaning flashes,
Soon, her head bows and her eyes shine, and she wants death more than the life she craves
A feeling of emptiness floods her wholeness
What she once felt, love, passion, happiness, and joy.
Well, they are gone, and there must she remain,
She cannot name what she really wants nor what she really feels,
She is consumed by her own expectations,
Yet it has no name, that which she endures.