The urge,
For what?
A constant question,
Making home in her dismal dreams,
With cobwebs winding,
In the pretence of productivity,
The rapid beating of her chest,
Hairs standing still,
Unsure of what to expect,
From the light shamefully shining,
The sleep soaker laying by,
Sweat submerged on her skin,
The unbearable alienation,
Unquenched,
Uncertain of,
The source,
Of her poverty.