Cut me with that sharp axe
For I wont bleed but the noise
I will make will make the roots firmer
I know I will break; I will fall down and you will use me to light a fire
To make you warmer in summer.
They will rise up one, two, three
Like the young orphans at the Northern gate orphanage
They will hope for a life lived.
Stronger twice as I was, they will grow to glow.
I know you will still hunt them down but
The senator has set up an act
A law in the papers will hunt you down
To the last I will see the teary eyes
And I will remember the noise heard and
Yet remained silent to your ears
I will remind you of how you broke me and chopped me in
Pieces.
For your axe couldn’t finish me
YOU ARE READING
Woman
Poesia'Woman' is a collection of poems that explores themes of love lust emancipation grief death loneliness and all about a she in my world.
