Alone, loyal but full of doubt,
The shaken faith of the ever-devout,
A heart-break at being cast out,
Craving love while living without.
The scintilla who fears not the dark,
Yet ever waits for that one remark,
A colourful rain-curtained spark,
Bringing light to a life so stark.
An emotion the colour of condemn,
Seen in glistening facets of every gem,
An orphaned star with a severed stem,
If they love Her not, how can Her love reach them?
Comments
Yeah, I can see how first-person wouldn't work so well here.