The (un)fortunate girl

I walked towards her room, climbing through the stairs. 
Looking for comfort and love. And if she still cares.
The path just seems long, and I wish to halt and wait.
But I know in my heart, to take a chance of fate.

I last saw her face, maybe when I was seven.
You are an angel, she said, sent from heaven.
I was her Mirabel, she named me.
But I was unfortunate, what an irony.

Am I a monster or just different from everyone?
That’s how I was born. I had no option.
My leg got twisted, in my mother’s womb.
I was a crippled flower, who missed to bloom.

I also have got, an extra finger or two.
But I thought it would be fine, as long I have you.
And one dark morning, you left me too.
I guess it was too much, even for you.

She gave me strength and empowered me to stand.
Till the day she did and until she left my hand.
Did she leave for my defect or was it hers?
Or was it everyone else? The memory now blurs.

You left me deserted, with my soul, in disarray.
You took all the hope when you went away.
All I have now is a memory of her touch and the aroma of her lap.
I wish I could sleep again, just for a while and just for a nap.

3 responses to “The (un)fortunate girl”

  1. The sadness and the feeling of guilt permeates this….

    Liked by 1 person

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