Lights they come
Dark that flows
In the tear and the sew
Sees that she knows.
Wrinkles that run
And nevergaze fun
She waters her tatters
She tries to forget
All that she knows.
She knows those dreams
Nightmares and reality
She knows the sun
The cold and cruelty.
Her bosom is stained
Her legs logged in blood
Sagging breasts bear wind
Sleeping in the mud.
Her room is empty
Light comes by day
Someone left her
She remembers someone did
She barely recalls the face
And tears don’t trace
Her memory that didn’t stay
Her eyes are waiting
Stoned, still, lifeless
Waiting for something
Perhaps for someone.
She looks at her hands
She tended, whom did she do?
She can’t remember
She wants to remember.
She fears the door
Outside eats at her heart
She fumbles and shrinks
In her bosom, bare.
There’s a hope inside
She writhes but knows not
What is it for?
Does she hope for food?
Or is it death?
Perhaps for someone
Perhaps for something
She can’t remember her name.
Who is she?
Where did she come from?
Where is she now?
She was a mother
Her bosom tells her
But what is a mother?
She doesn’t remember at all.
Her heart pounds strongly
What does it pound for?
The craving must be old
Such strong cravings are often
But what does it crave for?
Perhaps for something
Perhaps for someone
World must end at her room.
What has she done to be here?
What made her end up here?
Perhaps something
Perhaps someone.

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