Once I had a beautiful voice, rising

to the height of angels where its allure

summoned mystery and wanderlust.

I believed in myself then

 

Life can be cruel; it can cut you down,

shred you into pieces that no longer

remember where you belong, with

only a trail of memory left behind

 

You become a husk cracking as it

dries, your broken spirit withering

while those who have used you gloat

that what was yours is theirs

 

I only sing in the woods now where

trees dance to my songs and sprites

with no voice to call their own giggle

that they know my secret