hermanajuli

In this soft cushion my heart lament

Dreary of light, so bright it blinds

My soul tatters, I drown in torment

Tinkering, to which soul does mine binds?

I am free yet imprisoned by fate

Even if it could be a mistake

A sacrifice for the reason of state

My soul against a hundred at stake

Who am I to grumble, I am small

With a wick of light I fight in fear

With resilience I perform my toll

Then he came, a bulk of tinder

In the cushion with darkness in sight

I seek; will he be the blinding light?