From the stables of Broken Hearts Heal...



She has no identity as a man
No knowledge of her past
She is empty like a noisy drum
Her only solitude is in her daily rum
Her present bear no mark of the past
She is a terrorist in the north
She is an agitator in the east
She is an educated snitch in the west
She is a militant in the south
Her footprints bear no blue prints
She is at crossroad with four junctions
She searches for a man
To mend her broken piece
She is scattered as charfs
She bends at will to the touch of the wind
She searches for a king
One to unite her past and present
To reconcile her to one unique piece.