A sandy whisper at her back
And callous hand atop her heart
Consistent patterns breaking sweat
With eyes unseeing, snugly shut
Malignant doubt, sharp and fresh
Possesses bones and tender flesh
Infects the mind with binding chains
Just hope, despite the blight remains
Just will, unyielding push to stand
To grow, to be seen, to understand
Within his flesh, genetics lock
She builds a fortress, while they talk
She props the bridge as sniggers die
And then emerges to their silent cries
Oh so she wishes, for the hundredth time
Embedded deep within, supine
As whispers slither, and heart pumps
Within his body like a drum
She dreams, and yearns for her own breath
She'll die...A loss this is, a mess...
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