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Claire Tatad

“She Who Stands”

there she stood with water stung eyes,

ashamed, she was tainted divinity in disguise,

unable to see cohesion in two diverging halves,

where she stood, she drowned into forbearance.


there she stood with suffering that bled gold,

a figure covered in drips of saffron and primrose,

blinded she was, blinded by the vices of her mind,

where she stood, she was stoned into seclusion.


there she stood, seeking impulsive desires,

embraced by bleeding pinion daunt or tire,

like the greek tragedies, carrying heavens in her eyes

she who stands, was the epitome of grace and essence.


there she stood with the realisation,

that in the depths of despair, lays a divine, exquisite angel,

her soul now strong as ever, perfection in imperfection,

she who stands, now courageous and beautiful.


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