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Natural language

“Language is natural”, they say As if there isn’t a few drops of blood on every line I write As if my poems were created out of thin air not early mornings not sleepless nights As if I have never cried over the mediocrity of my work “Language is natural”, they tell me And suddenly…


Her childhood is a blur,
a rootless flower,
a roofless house,
a thunderstorm,
a collection of wistful memories her heart wants to forget
but can’t