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17 October 20205 November 2020 ~ W. Donovan

You look at me. And what do you see?

You see what you want to see. You create the image that you want to create. You’ve already made up your mind about me.

And when I suddenly speak up, you’re surprised because you thought I could only politely nod my head with agreement.

You’re surprised when I climb a mountain because the look on my face clearly indicated that I’d been lost in woods.

And you’re shocked when I cover my hands with dirt because you thought the only thing I could do was to put a lipstick on.

I’ve given everything to the world, not expecting anything in return, only to become a person that you cannot see.

How many years have I been here? Where have I been before? How did they find me, if I’d been covered up by snow?

I only grow on the land that I’ve been allied to. When you pull me out, there is nothing to quench my thirst. I wither.

wise are the witches

Published by W. Donovan

Weronika Donovan is an amateur writer and photographer. She's an artistic soul. She was born in Poland, where she was brought up and educated. Her adventure with writing began in her late teens, but she started blogging only ten years later. Her poetry has grown since that time. She started to use words more consciously. She defined the journey of her life, portraying it in four volumes of poetry. First of them called 'Ghosts' was self-published in 2019. Weronika is a loner. She likes wandering to interesting places, always choosing her own path. View all posts by W. Donovan