My heart filled with pain, I hid from them. Strolling through the hall as a grunting zombie I would lift my arms to greet them, and squeeze their hands to meet them.
I attended the school of fools called servants, or was it slaves? Doesn't matter it's all the same. It was the day of my discarded marriage, the aborted day replaced with spoken garbage.
On my way home I was alone in a car filled with spiritual men. All had things to say about that great day, their egos were rocked. Recognized servants given special talks.
Straight to my room I fled. To my empty room with no bed. She had it all in what was to be our new place. I threw myself on to the ground and no thought could light up the darkness, the deep sadness that dwelled within me. I cried. My family tried to console me, but I was beyond help, beyond comfort.
That day I was provided no real light, no consolation, no loving insight. All I got were men in cheap suites pointing to the sun at night.
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