Persephone

And what do I care if I`m up or if I’m down?

What does it matter?

Mother - power, man - power.

But I am only a daughter or a wife.

Amongst gods, I wonder if I’m mortal, semi-mortal or maybe something completely different.

I would like to go for coffee with my friends one day.

But I have no friends. The dead are only shadows, the alive can’t recognise me anymore.

And the coffee, and every smell, are only memories to me anymore.

When I’m down I`m just a memory of the above. And when I’m up, above the surface, collecting (like an ant) things to offer to the world below.

I heard them tell my story. Of how my mother lost me, how she cut ties from the earth, and how when I returned everything flourished once again…

I heard them talk about him as well, him that took away girlish nature. Him that snatched me, that trapped me.

But in all this, where in reality, I am the one that got hurt,

in all this story about my pain, nobody - nobody mentioned me. They talk about the others. They hurt with their pain.

The only condemnation, however, is my trial. Forever. Doomed to Immortality, but not me, the myth of others. From me, only my sound remained.

And an echo of my name Persephone.