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Who is this Nymph?
Who is this nymph
watching my dull sight,
as to tell my story
of a cursed and forlorn heart?
To follow her honest lines;
cratered scars haunt her legs
revealing words of tortuous pain
inflicted on herself not long ago.
Eyes distorted with destined hurt
by close ones lost in time.
Her mind swims with memories
of jovial bliss which lie
in cemeteries of despair.
This echo of hazed sight
brings forth the dying sense
of the truth murdering
self-worth hidden beneath.
