The girl who lived in the orange house
had everything and more that she could ask for.
Or so she thought.
Most of her life was lived in speculation
and what was required by others.
What suited others best suited her.
Others’ happiness was equivalent to hers.
Came one day when she paid attention to herself.
Alas, the moment the decision was made,
she knew she had done wrong.
I knew I had failed once more.
I knew I had done wrong all over again.
I knew I should’ve not shown the way.
I am the girl in the orange house.
By Senashia Ekanayake (1755h | April 4 2010)