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I will never be the posies that wither in the vase..: A poem

( My sisters thought they could own me and appropriate me, now they are blaming me further to justify their own guilt! It is they who fell to evil, it almost cost me my soul,; I didn’t blame them for it!)

I see the stars, the skies, the clouds, fall into pieces at the horizon. Does the troubadour’s protagonist know that if you keep driving lattitudinally on…you will never see sunset! So, does it all pile on in your imagination, left to be only uncovered by the extent of your expressions, words! If you talk too much, you can end up in unnecessary diatribe! If you rage too much, you could end up in futile drivel! If you complain too much, you would end up in pedantic nitpicking and self-victimisation! If you cry too much, it would end up in jarring disconsolate burdensome caterwauling! If you laugh at your sorrow too much, you just have an amazing, indomitable sense of humour and grace! I think it takes humour to be euphemistic, even if it is your duty, at times, to curse the perpetrators!

Yes it is tough on you when nobody beleves you for your honesty; and you cannot be faulted if you begin to feel a lot like the first phrase of this poem! How when everything you look up to comes undone like loose threads of embroidery in the fabric of your character(?!), and then, you seem to be an ageless seamstress all over again!

It is a magic of sorts that resilience expects no miracles, but the patience to abide by duty! If you are righteous in your beliefs, and still no one understands you, there could still be a turn of fate, even after much protraction, where you will finally get your due! When you stop reading the endless tome, it may just as well all be read out to you as prudential providence! That, just about before all the posies of poetry in your vase lose their fragrance and begin to wither away!