Though we look the same,
we are torn
by miles of ocean,
more of pain.
In a rare respite from terror,
my dreams escape
this squalor,
this harsh reality,
and I ...
become you,
clean, clothed, cool;
shampooed head asleep
on plush cotton pillows;
charcoal skin caressed
by pajamas silky smooth.
Come dawn…
‘Which suit to wear?'
becomes my worst worry;
‘Being late for work,'
my worst fear.
O, to be free!
Perhaps someday
you'll think of me,
or send me a note
to spark a smile of hope
on my pubescent face,
two decades aged by hunger and disease.
Though we look the same,
we are torn
by miles of ocean,
more of pain.
~ P
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Though we look the same,
we are torn
by miles of ocean,
more of pain.
In a rare respite from terror,
my dreams escape
this squalor,
this harsh reality,
and I ...
become you,
clean, clothed, cool;
shampooed head asleep
on plush cotton pillows;
charcoal skin caressed
by pajamas silky smooth.
Come dawn…
‘Which suit to wear?'
becomes my worst worry;
‘Being late for work,'
my worst fear.
O, to be free!
Perhaps someday
you'll think of me,
or send me a note
to spark a smile of hope
on my pubescent face,
two decades aged by hunger and disease.
Though we look the same,
we are torn
by miles of ocean,
more of pain.
~ P
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