I bowed

Out of perfection

I'm running

With a concealed shadow

And they chased

And chased

Will I ever see the bay?

A golden trace of a new born

Shedding glory off this window

Or a rotten dirt

Etched deeply

A scar

Beneath the ocean

Of questions.



- The Rockchick

Marie Joyce B. Negapatan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untitled-248/