November 15, 2007
When I was young
I prayed the days to grow
and never fade
but now I praise the night
for hushing the day

My head on the chair
the break for my fall

down the stairs
and the egg on my head grows

When I was young
I knew nothing
of the rips
and tears of the spirit
I now know

Her hand burns
red on my cheek
the reprimand
for my ignorant tongue

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