You have been here

before                  ,       grey in grey

aids I swore

The lamps with wings;

denied        more

Power

high it shapes

a flower.

(Lady of Poetry)

Red the spots

on tables driven shots

My ears

differently hear rumble

voices

a second bears

whole debt of time

Why the moment then

cannot torture

my cheerful rhyme?

(Lady of Poetry)

Broken mirror

Masses; slowly dying

they cross the platform

annoying in wheelchairs

for children.

The air, boiled water

my lungs breath in

Heavy, microscopic capillaries

burn within.

Their faces, just invisible

to observant earth of mine.

Flashbacks aside.

No struggle to keep

fractured mind.

No sign of being alive.

They slide along.

                                                                                                                                     (Lady of Poetry)