Mama Just a Little Girl

Every now and then The cold blooded floor cements her dream. Every now and then She wakes up to the livid voice of her baby sinking into cupid rain. The mercury of things on her chest is open as the cloud Every now and then She thinks of the diary of a teenage mother with baby sitter. All these rotten times She found no triangle in love. All these rotten times She saw no handwriting of her soldier on military wall. Only the rose on his grave had kissed her thousand times in hazy vision. Sometimes it seems as if the cloud over her head is drinking beer. How will she find love in these rotten times. Every now and then She smiles at vegetative hands in the house of commerce. I see a little love dripping out of her baby's feeding bottle. I see a church of diapers becoming rare. She's just 15 and mama is just a little girl.