A Burnt Life

A Jacques Tissot painting reminiscent of The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James

A Burnt Life

A burnt life has left me behind
Shallow emotions would be forgotten
Grief would leave a mark in my heart
Because of all the traumas I had to bear all life
It is suggested to be insensitive in this existence
Because they would not understand all the damages left in my mind and heart
They would see me just as a body without a soul
I was just a high-grade intelligent entity with a bunch of degrees
All the suffering and agonies were buried in the deepest place of my soul
I was too sensitive, too unusual, too brilliant
Hence I had to do much more than others
I always had to be the perfect role model
Nevertheless, I was all alone in my anguishes
There was no empathy
There was no connection
And it was as if the sky had suddenly fallen on me, and the stars were burning out
In the secrecy of the dark despair, I was left alone, and pains were stabbing my heart like tiny sharp daggers
I always had as loyal companions my books
Being lonely, it was the only refuge where I would spend hours
Archaeology, Physics, Biology, Literature and Philosophy were my favourite topics
And I would enjoy reading in English, Italian and French
A burnt life without escapes entrapped me for a long time
Leaving me with scars and awful remembrances.

Esther Racah

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