The Riddle

A poem.

Photo by omar alnahi from Pexels

The way she cries is through your eyes

The way she kills is quiet

You’re a puppet on her string, you see

But her hands are hidden, silent

.

The way she loves is how you love her

Let your eyes reflect her stars

Carry her with your steps, and learn

For what you know defines her

.

Fear not that lonely, hollow song

When she’s flown away, despondent

When you feel your burning chest, remember

There’s fire in her heart

.

Become her