Forlorn

Forlorn she sat in the windy desert,

The sands of time whirling around her, a storm was approaching

And she had no clue what were to happen of her,

Not that she cared, for she had long given up.

Given up on protecting what had been left of her.

Years of meandering around the desert does that to you.

No hope of ever getting an out, of being free from the harsh fetters of destiny,

She had now resorted to resignation.

She was not here, she had wandered away, farther, much farther 

From anyone's reach, beyond anyone's reach.

Perhaps one might say, her insanity drove her to the point of no return,

One might say the winds of life whisked her away.

No one knows for sure, no one would ever know, 

For the storm that's coming in has prognosticated her decimation.

Yet she sits there, amidst those whirling sands, unfazed,

Unbothered as she has learnt to be.

Unperturbed as she has grown to be.

An eerie placidity, a ghoulish quiet, that's all what has been left of her,

That's all what shall be left behind in that desert.