Winter and Steaming Coffee

Dirt

Smudged on your face are the words of your fate, 

Mud and soil covering your eyes in turmoil;

The days you spent crying, the nights you spent trying

To wipe that dirt off your cheeks, hurt

Like razors cutting off your tongue, a song unsung

Buried alive under a blanket of ground, you found

The shovel searched for years to dig above your fears

Finding the sky; and rain to wipe off that dirt, you fly.