Poor Semret
A poem about self-perception, inner turmoil, and existential questioning.
Poor Semret
Oh she is beautiful,
One Hundred percent,
Addicting is her scent,
Her eyes mesmerizing,
Like blue luminescent,
The moon is jealous of her,
She is a muse to every painter.
Aphrodite made her eyes hazel,
And it's grudging every damsel,
Every bachelors eyes are on her,
But what’s the use.
she is a recluse.
No concern for the public views,
People cherished her looks,
Unaware of her soul Bleeding,
She went to church everyday Pleading,
‘’oh dear lord break me free from these demons
Don’t leave me alone to suffer from their malevolence.’’
Poor semret
Little did she know,
That her own thoughts made her discontent,
Her biggest source of disappointment,
Her mind filled with pessimism,
Questioning altruism,
Everyone has evil intention.
That was her principle,
To suspect, To question,To reject,
To her it was virtue,
A vice to endure,
To protect herself and feel secure
A fallacy for hoax coziness,
A delusion that snatched her happiness.
She committed debauchery,
Blasphemy against her purity,
It was the world she feared,
In her mind she was hated.
Her thoughts Altered her image,
She was unable to see her prestige,
Her mirror showed her a fairy,
But her eyes saw a bogy.
It was a battle she could never win.
A struggle from within,
She pleaded God a compensation,
How can he permit her creation.
She said God committed a felony,
She doubted his sanity,
It made her contemplate his actuality.
She said ‘‘God you made a mistake,
my tranquility was not something for you to fortake.’’
She blamed everyone but herself,
Poor semeret.
She went to court,
Her thoughts were her prosecutors,
A court with no defence,
She couldn’t shut off her ugly notions ,
She hand no choice but to helplessly witness,
Her self being sentenced to eternal silence ,
May her beautiful soul rest in peace,
May she slumber tightly,
Relish her wish for everlasting tranquility.
