Everybody knew her,
but she didn’t know herself.
Her first steps were through
a stormy city, Sarajevo.
Her smile was dented, as the war
progressed in Bosnia, it was 1991,
her eyes were hollow
and her face like stone
Everyone knew she was tall,
but did everyone know
how tainted her heart was.
Her childhood was a smeared painting
she ran from it,
who wouldn’t run from the noise
of gun shots, the feeling of loneliness
and the sight of darkness,
still she stood in the rain,
she soaked in every regret.
As much as the dirt roads
and shattered memories
are a piece of her past,
her future is brighter
than a burning fire
in Sarajevo
during an empty night.
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