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Poem

She wasn’t thinking about her time and tomorrow
She broke out without a rendering word
Nothing sat well or sits well within her 
In fact, she would rather pillow the past then paint a new picture

She still couldn’t hear the sounds that she borrowed
So she wept out a rhythm with words
Anything would work if she knew how to fix it
So instead, she fell into a home with no pictures, just paintings

If only she knew how to lift up the earth
Maybe then she could save them all from the future
Fall if she could, send a new story if she may
But they lifted her out of the picture and sat her in a pit

Left her there to rot and sink in soil
Rest assured she gathered her pebbles 
And left the shore for another street of land
Perhaps, she would picture a new path cemented, unfollowed

Let her hide in the bosom of her liberty
Let her race to forever, unknown eternal poverty
Her bed lays underneath the juncture of earth's armies
Her love lays blinded by the bedside table
skin unsold, eyes bolted shut with fortunes untold

Then she knew only then she'd bleed today
Unsure of every corner that needed turning away
The streets bare, bordered beneath, winded within
She could lie and forfeit the figure drawings for fortune unnamed

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