Pop-ping stitches
Snap-ping seams
Salt in wrinkles
And little lost dreams
Boom-ing beats
In gloom-ing streets,
A flick-ing tongue
In hospital seats;
Shudder-ing walls
And empty halls
For echoes to chase
One final em-brace,
Fail-ing hands and
Rip-ping soul from soul
A mother without her daughter
Is hardly whole;
Cries of why
(To never sleep)
