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Apr 2020
I saw her walking slow up the creek ankle deep in perception. Hair flowing over her neck sleek with obsession. Does she realize what she means to the stream, as she peers down and ponders this dream.

How can we continue to live  lives like these as our mother's  beaten down broken to her knees. ****** bruised ravished and depleted left for dead as the vicious cycles repeated.

The total we have taken, for the end must be near as our mother's staggers aimlessly toward the end of the pier. The dark of the night drives the dawn of the day  Over the horizon toward a new way.
Michael Luciano
Written by
Michael Luciano  37/M/Pennsylvania
(37/M/Pennsylvania)   
162
 
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