Her body is like a powerful tide
looming in an ever-flowing motion
chewing on her emotions like rice
she aches to read in sheltering arms
wearing her chaos for a better life
her skin is a wild thing at its best
memories in her songs of grief
now trembled and hummed in her bones
like a silent gust of unfinished wreckage
or an absent orchestra of musical hell
her two eyes wander through the meadows
lessons forced on her forgiving shoulders
all her exhausting days and unsent texts
are winding up in threads of crocheted wool
she exists in this unyielding temporal
growing stronger among unseen enemies
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