Here are the four walls again,
posing with photos of memories
Keeping them secure with bent nails.
Here is my table, my brush my perfume
Here is my chair, my couch, my little room,
Oh my comfort zone
My womb...
Here is my little window
Letting the sun in like a prize
Betraying this reality.
And as I lazily open my eyes,
Everything I can hold,
becomes breakable
Everything I am told
is now mistakable
ZM
