Self-Portrait
Sometimes,
When my wounds feed,
A river into eyelids,
I see myself as a renowned,
Dictionary of endless pains.
I cover my cold body with smiles,
On the day I worship God,
My scars beneath,
My prayer requests,
Holds, me a witness.
I paint myself in disguise,
Before Him,
Hold on to my rosary,
Recite, Hail Mary,
When my body should be,
A reality of being dead.
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