Patch Doll
Rain chasing rain,
My mother’s heritage
The ability of being used;
Make me smile,
Touch my hand,
And I am there, slave to a glimpse of acceptance.
Patch doll,
Patches of unfulfilled dreams,
Patches of buried desires.
Dreams,
Ashes twirling about,
Hovering over the grave
Of a life, unlived.
Potential of potential,
Tangible illusion,
Shapes sculpted without lines,
Without borders.
Expectation of greatness,
Anticipation of being.
Living death
Dying life,
Pushing against the cold unknown
Just to be,
Crushed by the weight of layers of pain,
No way out,
And no way in;
Cover this grave with flowers,
May their beauty,
Be my salvation.
Copyright © Ohseannah Hannaesho | Year Posted 2018
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