Modern Romanticism

The face so delicate in the storm

Of her heart,

Wrenched in the loneliness

Of where land meets betrayal.

She is the Earth,

So natural in her state

When wanted to be left alone.

We see the forests the same,

Cut down,

Only to repair itself, when alone.

She goes to study her grief,

Deep in its pangs.

The songs she sings,

Are like the trees with howling winds,

She has been raped

And then locked in her memory,

For someone threw away the key.

She has been

Moved to tears, more than one time

When quakes turn her form to be torn apart.

Divided,

When her reflection is broken images

In the mirror.

Such darkness, where she retreats to

Her heart,

To be able to undo,

All that she has viewed,

With a stare always engraved in a gleam.