May 27, 2012 § 35 Comments

The casual poets,
the philosophers,
the artists,
the writers,
the observers,
the meaningless poets;
look at me and ask
which one am i?
I tell em i dont know,
i dont want to know.
Read my poems and
define me.

All i can tell them is
my mother is a strong
woman with deep emotions,
takes care of her world,
adds her touch to everything
she touches.
My mother looks me in the
eye and knows what is wrong.
But she’s still undefined,
she says.


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