She didn't reply to my usual sneers and I immediately realized she was out of humor.
Her eyes were swollen. One has to shed a great deal of tears for their eyes to swell this much.
I was at a loss of what to do myself.
It was the first time I've ever seen her cry; to be precise, to have seen her after the fit, not only is she the toughest, most brutal and annoying female figure I've yet to encounter, but she also has this pride, a vanity that prevents her from ever showing her weak side to anyone , no matter what the situation is..
Which is why I recoiled. This is new.
When you don't know what to do, you do nothing. You just observe, and observe I did.
What am I to say to her under such circumstances, after all ? With what words is a person ,who is easily moved to tears my a mere poem like myself , is supposed to comfort this Iron Lady ?
I finally woke up to the fact that ,no matter how strong you are, no matter how strong you pretend to be, there is a time when everything falls crumbling upon you, and you just...lose control and break down.
Your inner weak self that was curled, hidden like an unborn child, gets exposed to the scorching rays of the sun ..and no longer can endure the shame of its own weakness and the curious gazes of all the jesters.
If there is anything i'm sure of , though, it is that a proud heart always succeeds in gathering its scattered pieces and healing in some lonely corner where no one can see, and returns all polished and shiny, as strong as ever.
When you don't know what to do, you do nothing. You just observe, and observe I did.
What am I to say to her under such circumstances, after all ? With what words is a person ,who is easily moved to tears my a mere poem like myself , is supposed to comfort this Iron Lady ?
I finally woke up to the fact that ,no matter how strong you are, no matter how strong you pretend to be, there is a time when everything falls crumbling upon you, and you just...lose control and break down.
Your inner weak self that was curled, hidden like an unborn child, gets exposed to the scorching rays of the sun ..and no longer can endure the shame of its own weakness and the curious gazes of all the jesters.
If there is anything i'm sure of , though, it is that a proud heart always succeeds in gathering its scattered pieces and healing in some lonely corner where no one can see, and returns all polished and shiny, as strong as ever.
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