she is sorry
for being so angry
for being so intense
for feeling too much
all the time
even with the most trivial of things
for always being ready to strike back
at the first sign of ache
and for always being on-the-move
so quick to pack her things
at the first sign of argument
for her soul is peppered with thorns
the sharp points turned inwards instead of out
and she can't help but yelp
even with the slightest of touch
her skin is still intact
but she is sure
yes she can feel it
there is a rupture within her
—and they just see them as bruises, nothing more
Intact, they don't even mumble,
Once broken they will grumble.
My HP Poem #1391
The universe which modern science says is expanding
is partly due to our perception of it and understanding.
But into what does it expand and has perhaps to contract?
when we're only vaguely aware of what it contains intact.
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
I didn't expect this dream to be a stillborn
after so many years of seeing this false image of reality
it never arrived intact.
"Dad's broken bicycle"
she pointed, in pity
In his hands
Nothing will stay intact,
Not anything, Not anyone
"All your bones are all intact",
That is what my mother said
When she held me
For the first time.
And I smiled,
For I thought that was all
I needed in life.
I would greatly appreciate feedback or comments.
— The End —