When she adrift her gift… for nothing
She is convinced and lifted as a dream
In smoulder, no overcome she will find
First her mother and almost her mind

Later, to a friend, she puts on weight
Her father left after, as did the rafter
Her home became scattered in a pile
All alone, she could not sleep awhile

By her bruises, she is too used to lose
As to guess is no; and yes is to choose
For her unhurt is necessary to blame
In contrary, each pain hurt the same


— Ricardo Sexton



Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s