who wears the veil
hiding the truth?
what shroud is worse;
is it the one worn by
the woman I was,
blind to the danger
lurking,
growing silently inside me?
or is the one worn by
the woman I am now,
who only sees the world
thru a dark haze,
dimmed
by the endless havoc
wreaked upon my body?
one veil shields
the other reveals,
both conceal clarity
in a misty layer,
a shadow
blurring the precious vision
I once held of myself
I long to shed
this faint cloud
that obscures my sight,
but I find myself afraid
the glare may be too much
and could turn my eyes
to seek the thin solace of darkness
permanently
