ندى

my broken pieces flow to your shore /

who cradles the darkest souls,

who lays her heart in the hands of shadows

yet still reaches, trembling, for the light.

She is the grey,

the marrow between life and death,

the tether that binds both silence and storm:

a witness to every side,

never choosing, never chosen,

yet carrying the weight of all.

Her love cuts deep,

her hurt carves deeper;

she bleeds with the rhythm of the stars,

a pulse that echoes fate itself.

The universe whispers its secrets into her chest,

and she answers-

though sometimes with resentment,

with a cry that says,

“Why me? Why always me?”

Desperation stains her prayers.

She pleads for peace,

a stillness to quiet the roaring cosmos,

but the universe laughs-

for she was never made for peace.

She is the beacon of chaos,

the wild flame on the horizon,

the storm-singer,

forever unraveling,

forever weaving the madness of the world.

And still,

she endures-

the girl of shadow and light,

of sorrow and fire,

forever cursed,