The ice chips slither down me,
I’ve been injected with coldness.
Tons of ice travel from my brain,
sneaking down my spine, laying
dormant to the icicles I feel inside.
The eyes of the abused, dead child,
The posture of the homeless woman,
A cold body from a wrong relationship,
Reminds my heart my constant feelings,
of loneliness and clinging to the hill.
The regurgitation of pure unhappiness,
Spills onto the rocks of carelessness,
The tears will drown one’s own body
into a lake & personally hoping no one
will take notice of what is happening.
–by Maria Mocha © 2007