A ransacked village in India is where my lineage began
Women.
Women, I will
And
Can never, ever know.
Tribulations my western brain
Cannot comprehend.
They made me.
I have the blood of
Hundreds

Vert émeraude est ton œil
Et son reflet dans ce lac de glace
Où miroitent tes émotions
Si calmes.

Rouge sang est ta griffe
Et son ombre avant qu’elle ne tombe
Pour s’ancrer dans la chair
De tes ennemis.

“To Strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
Thou shalt never give up,
What is rightfully his,
Never whimper away from fears,
Never give away their tears,
Fight for what is right,
Inside the brightest of light,
We shall all have,

I’m hanging from the edge.
Nothing stands between me
and falling but my own waning strength.
What if I fall? What if I seriously hurt myself?

You see, I’ve been on both ends, the smile and the tear,
But still I stand after all of my years,
Perhaps a little wiser, maybe stronger too,
But I’m still nowhere close to what I’m meant to do.
And although I seem generous and incredibly kind,