It’s a curious thing. A real curious thing.
Why do you find it so unsettling to see me in pain?
And try to hurry me to the end
The supposed light that shines through the tunnel
Don’t you know?
I’m at home in my pain
It is my vice. The primary colour that I know
The only official language on my tongue
The ailment that became crutch and then finally the spine itself
I wonder what emotions it stirs within you
Do superman desires overtake you?
An opportunity to wipe off some tear and wipe clean your moral slate
You couldn’t begin to think up the waters that run in this river
An abyss in which geometrical planes have no end
She’s a poetic gangsta.