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
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