I was hired for the harshness of my voice
and my art of prolonged weeping
then why I’m lashed so mercilessly
each time I howled in agony

I was hired for my long black hair
soft, wavy, shiny and so beautiful
but no combs were ever bought for me
I was hired for my knowledge of blue hues
prussian, cyan, cobalt and midnight
but they prohibited me from looking at the sky

yet I secretly exercise my lamentation,
so hard doing it with eyes wide open,

and I secretly struggle to unravel too
why the child was so thankful
while digging holes deeper than its own height

did it also, like me, know that
holes, wholeheartedly, are see-through