Please Tell Me Life

Life is but a poem, With a lot of oxymoron subjects. I looked into those tranquil eyes That face reminded me of a beautiful poem. She used to walk on a fine line, in my mind Between faith and frustration. In tiny steps, little by little. In my memory, I greeted a poem, once And the poem was crying, in pain, While pumping her breastmilk out Those pills, she was taking It could enter the baby's body, With the purest food Like the seepage of a poison. I talked with a poem in my mind, once Faded much… Yet, I could recall memories of her, She was fighting with her destiny And a magical wound of frozen time Was imprinting a brutal moment of vulnerability And all I could remember is a puzzled, confused and lonely soul Bleeding a pool of occult blood on her fight. I wanted to utter amen in my supplication, for all those poems I knew. Vulnerability, will you send the angel of hope at the end of the day? And I will greet her, silently "Please tell me life, how's it going?" Life Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Ironic Zink