A bundle of contradictions:

A bundle of contradictions:

 

Alone in the annexe I sit, becoming one with the days, and the seasons.

Alone she sits, pondering about whether the war will end soon, or if her time is up.

I ponder about my family and what strength drove them through this bundle of contradictions that I call my life.

She ponders about  the restless nights, the fights and the sirens throughout the mess she calls her life.

Becoming a lady, I must sit poise, prim and proper.

Becoming a lady, sacrifices must be made, her beauty for her brain, and her heart for her hope.

I begin to wonder about the chimes, chimes that break the day into evening and the evening into night.

She wonders about the chimes, the sand shuffling through the hourglass- she wonders about her future.

 

A bundle of contradictions, I write to my diary- two halfs of a whole person but a split in my personality.

 

A bundle of contradictions she writes, anger, happiness hope and despair- two halves of a person that no one sees is there.

 

Could the war be over, all my suffering coming to end?- I am begining to view  friends as family, but my family i am starting to view as friends.

 

Could her savoirs be near?- could the new beginning break the dawn – or is this just a painting that a talented artist has drawn.

 

One thing is for certain I’ll be the best writer yet- even after death, my life will become a sonnet for the masses.

 

One thing is for certain, her life will live on- through movies, poetry and song- her words will become history every time she lays her pen to write, until her final breath bits the night .

good night. – Danielle Parrish

 

(based off of her last diary entry, Tuesday the 1st of August 1944)

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