Art Blog of Self-Proclaimed Owl

You can be a hero. 

Here’s to more years of growing, the journey has only started. It’s been hard, but it’s just gonna get harder. 

Once there were three girls

born from the same womb

Once there were three girls 

Who had different views and tombs

One girl grew up, making mistakes and spoke without tact 

Losing all feelings for the ones above, she flew the coop and never looked back

The ones left behind watched on, never knowing the freedom of light

The last one grew up, a princess through and through

Spoilt and angered, she gave in to her desire 

Everything she did, a lie she told, believed by the ones above

Away with it she was told

Mistake after mistake, and the ones above could not ignore 

But she screamed and shout, and the other girls got the force 

Everything she did, a fault it was of the others

Everything she learnt, it was the fault of probably the eldest 

Now the second one was left, fumbling through what she knew 

Committed an extreme sin, and switched the ‘lower’ path 

Fought to keep the respect, of the others above and around 

Constantly getting beaten or turned into a scapegoat of sorts

Lies were her best friend, and time was of an enemy 

She worked and worked, trying to appease the ones above 

She had her quarrels, her anger, her rants, but kept it under wraps 

When the eldest flew the coop, she felt a little sad. 

When the eldest never wrote back, she felt a twinge of mad

When the one above fell ill, she worked to keep him safe 

When the one above yelled at her for crying, she struggled to hold in those tears

But the moment she said that time was not of essence, 

A label was immediately placed 

Unfilial, a waste, a mistake that was made 

The other two that never cared, oh they are fair 

Work has them going, so it’s alright if they don’t care 

But you, oh no, they said, you have all the time 

Why can’t you see the ailing and put your work aside? 

Because you don’t care at all, that’s why you don’t want to see

But work is what I have, it was given to me so late!

The girl implored the ones above to see,

She had far more work than what they were led to believe

But alas she was told, it was all lies that were told. She held her tongue and closed her eyes, wishing for more 

Alas it was not to be, for it was never her destiny to be 

Perhaps one day when she cracked, they would see who the worst 

out of the three girls will be 

Or maybe they will not, and she would be cursed

As the child who was always bad, the black sheep of the fam. 

This is but a small little story

one that has yet to be completed

But the bottle is near and there is no one here

“Will you dance with me?”