As beautiful as a rose in the morning, why does it fade at noon but the bricks don’t. I looked deeply into the space asking rhetorical questions to my imaginary friends. I am in my prime, fighting the good fight of faith, holding my head high even when they try to bring it down, My tears have run down my cheeks a lot times, but have chosen to wear the coat of achievement, my tears were never for failure but the rough part, the war, the mental and emotional battle I fought and still fighting, all I have chosen to rise above their limitation. I weep for that girl child that dares to dream big, what package does society have for her? That girl child that aspires to be a footballer like Asisat Oshoala, will she be made to swallow her dream and please society? Will society help her achieve her dream without leaving a scar in her heart? Or will society let her FADE just like the evening rose?
Medium: Acrylic on Canvas