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the words fall from her mouth

like rain hammering from

the sky. you are hurting me,

she sighs. she is tired, weary,

sun dried like a raisin, her

skin has shriveled and wrinkled.

when her lips part, i can smell

the stench of dying hope ringing

like thunder through clouds as

gray as her hair. her skin is bruised,

black and brown, bloated and

swollen like mosquito bites.

she cannot hold me in her arms

forever, standing by idly as i peel

the calluses off her palms.

mother earth will have to let

me fall. maybe then her blood

will run clear instead of being

spilled on a concrete floor.

silence will blanket her like a

bank of snow; tranquility will

become her. and slowly, she

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will heal. the scars i lashed

across her face will turn to

skin. the hair i ripped out

in fistfuls will regrow. and

there will always be a sun

after every dark night. oh yes,

there will always be a sunrise.

just not for me.