Pull me to the cliff that overlooks all lands,
show me where I belong;

not the village no, it's cold and grim
I'd glue to a web of roaring gossip
like a fly was nestling on my wall.

The city? Ah! It's selfish and brandished
where status weasels-in seasonal friends,
sweet to the tongue but antigenic to the body.

The coast, malleable!
vast waters harbor stillth memories
soft waves pull me into sentiment
and the water surface echoes strength of earthly bonds.

You ask where I belong?

I belong on that cliff, looking at the world
knowing they won't look back.

precipitates of spite
sting deeper than an angry bee
even as I shudder in hate's bite
buds of resilience sprout in me.

what do you tell the woman
perched by her child's bed
singing a lullaby to the asleep
turbid sponging the cold

the man wraps fingers with her in strength
clutched to a portrait of deity and a rosary
they pray
for their only child, cause you see no other

she declines to eat
she refuses getting clean
perhaps she's fasting
for a scarce medical miracle

but little Angelica fell hard
a sweet child she would be
even as she lay still
a subtle smile plays on her face

already in a better place.

We shan't light candles
lined on our way to  heaven
each soul will glow
in accordance with deeds
the brightest dimmed to pitch black
reality proffered to the visible
doom for the unseen
Oh where shall I stand?
Surely somewhere in between!

I hate my bed
every time I lay, I stray
deep a puddle of thoughts
like a mirror I, glare at my day's wickedness overt
I'm awake.

And as peculiar, I fade away
into a trance of nothingness
shallow breaths, soft heartbeats, peace
delving in my subconscious world
Sometimes pleasant, often, not
I'm dead.