Hope mists my goal
the undying wish to win
besieges me
A mirage I see
as a glistening lake
of faux and rocks
For the ire left behind
by ours to call
by blood and ancestry
Neither my foe
nor friend to call
but a part of my history
a part of my tree.
Shattered is my wish
blurred my vision
is from all the salty wetness
What happened
what happens
what will happen
Is the future to know
the present to anticipate
and the past to believe
YOU ARE READING
Emotional cripple
Poesia"Is that paint on your lips?" they ask. • • • • • "Yes, the paint of my tainted soul," she say. -A collection of free style poems-
