On the edge of renewal
I stop to wonder
Do I have to lie down
On a bed of rusty nails
Just to make you know my name
Am I obliged to suffer the long, lorn path of hope
Not even knowing if my struggle is in vain
Without a nightingale singing high over the musty clouds
A pathfinder to guide me towards my approaching fate
Are all my dreams forlorn?
Have I wrecked it all in just one careless whip of the neck
Can years and years of hatred and injustice be undone
by diligent work and an ever-burning core of certainty?
Can I prove myself to an ignorant world
or will my attempts be consumed by the flames of authority
and unforgotten failures in the past?
Each step so treacherous.
– Malicia Frost