I can swear I’ve never seen
The tiring mornings
How they ensoul in foolish barefootness
I swear for every line and letter
That I wrote deliriously
To escape this reality
Without an identity.
While the smell of coffee
Collapses the walls of this town
In complete nakedness
While my grandma grinds in her mill
The past; there where regrets lay
And I go on drinking the venom of time
In slow growth.
I swear I have been busy
We lost our dreams – like kids their toys,
With ribs taken from our body
They build the cage of our freedom…
… But I see every day the patched scars
That this place hides
…and this hurts me!
From Adams Rib -- Stephanie Moore