Writings on the Wall

She’s terrified and can’t see the writings on the wall
She can only see her shadow which became very tall
An army of hyenas is charging from behind with stride
Her right to thrive by the her opponents was denied
Snakes and scorpions are lodging at her feet
To poison her heart faster they compete
She sees dark colors on the high wall
She realizes that she’s become so small
The night is long, dark and cold
Her body’s wet, tired and can’t anymore withhold
The arrows are deep in and the pain is severe
She screams the stabs but no one could hear
She can’t read the writings on the wall
She’s not listening to the truth’s call
Many are talking and the thunder is loud
Wicked whispers are buzzing from the hostile crowd
The disgusting worms, the ugly witch and the mean brother
To love her, be fair to her, or let her live they swore never
Who could, for her, decode the symbols on the wall
Before her desire to breathe and love begins to pall?
Who could lie to her and say the wounds will heal?
Who could give her hope and tell her triumph is real?
Who could promise her a new dawn? Is anybody trying?
Her eyes and ears are bleeding; does anybody care if she’s dying?
Does anyone know who built the pillars of the wall?
Who could see that it was the devil’s job to install?!
Does anyone know what’s on the other side,
and between what lives the walls divide?
Who is also concerned about the once-was great lady?
Who is also wondering how the truth became so shady?!