Poetry

A doormat of broken dreams

Words and image by Sharon Mo //  ©2017

Lying beneath a doormat of broken dreams
Trying to remember herself
Yesterday’s paragon
She is a jewel lost and forgotten
Rats and cockroaches
dressed in pride
Each one walks over her
All are rivals rejoicing
over her fall
Though she knows her might
she chose humility
She reminds them not
of their minority
They push her back and forth
Still her voice is silent
No glimpse of attainments to talk
on her behalf
Her heart bears dead dreams
Where does she go next?
To the west?
To the east?
All she needs is a spark
igniting flames to set heart ablaze
She craves laborious endeavours
Just a smoke of a chore to get
her weary feet off the ground

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5 thoughts on “A doormat of broken dreams”

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