Editor's ChoiceMusingsPoetry

Sorrow, A Virtue

Her head with glittering crown
and face wearing frown.
With eyes in shades
to wail in prowess.

Like an offspring of anguish
she daily cries without tears.
And sadness is her sibling,
a mark for the hurt.

Of many heartbreaks
and trailing rejections;
everything that sucks
became the usual norm.

She is strong
else she would be a feather
floating in the air without delay
and landing on anything.

Accustomed to pain and affliction
her fiery ordeals are blessings.
And sorrow forging her into an alloy of high market value.

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