We collect scars like trophies,
Running our fingers down each shiny surface
As the dust of years dissipates with each stroke
And pain, like the grandest of glittering diamonds draped around our neck
Each memory a sharp-edged facet cutting deep within its cold embrace
While the finest cloak of purple–so carefully draped around our body
Is knit of wounds and bruises too slow to heal in time
And yet so regally we stand
Gazing silently upon the carnage wrought throughout the years
As echoing within we hear a whispering refrain
Who set me to rule
over this desert land?
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Author: ebonyandcrows
Hello and welcome to my page~
My name is Larisa--a very common Slavic name that was either derived from the Latin word hilaris, meaning "cheerful," or from the Greek city of Larissa, meaning "strong fortress."
Born in Ukraine, I emigrated with my family to America when I was still a small child and now make my home in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Growing up immersed in two vastly differing cultures led me to have a burning curiosity about people all over the world. Stemming from said curiosity, I have fallen in love with traveling to other countries, meeting new people and delving into their culture, exploring new cities, and of course, dining on the local cuisine!
If I cannot escape into a different country, then my next favorite method of adventure is to lose myself in a spectacular book. I enjoy books of all genres--from fiction and novels, to biographies and ethnographies. As long as it captures my fancy and holds me spellbound the entire time, I will burn through the book like a forest fire! Because of this penchant for reading and travel, coupled with my love of deep and mysterious things, I have been often called a dreamer and I find the title suits me.
With that being said, I invite you to stay a while, perhaps make yourself a cup of tea and linger through my posts and feel free to comment or share a thought :-)
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Ebony and Crows 
You portrayed it so vividly, Larisa! Beautifully written.
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Another one that was born from ruminating on some painful and deep subjects one evening several years ago. Sometimes I wonder if I’d have any inspiration to write if I hadn’t gone through all the curveballs life keeps throwing. As much as I hate having to go through it, it does give a reason to put pen to paper doesn’t it?
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