Joy was her name.
A life un-wed.
Thirty years old.
Never danced a step.
She would have left these red hills far behind if not for her condition.
I would have left these red hills long ago if not for my condition.
Pitiful Joy.
She looked away
into a hollow sky
came face to face
with her own innocence surrounding her until it never was a question –
innocence so suffocating, now she cannot move, no question.
No hope for Joy.
No hope or faith.
She wanted to go blind,
wanted hope to stay.
I’ve been believing in nothing since I was born, it never was a question.