Saturday, October 07, 2017

Cold Water



Cold Water
.
.
Save me, I'm about to faint.
I lift my hand to hold up the sky.
Not for the flag. Not because of hunger.
It's not the thirst.
It's my solitude surrounded by screams.
It's knowing  what motivates
my desire.
It's the fatigue of being a puppet.
My strings collapse
amid the beauty
and laughter of children.
I can't save myself.
I'm this crumbling, desperate country,
this unthinkable winter.
Water, who has a bottle 
of cold water 
for me to bathe in?

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