peering at her sophisticated box
sitting through her will
staring at her reflection
yes, she is
a bird with broken wings
a mermaid with no tail
her poem doesn't have rhymes
her words follow with fallow
yes, she is
trying to be the same of any other youth
forcing to luxuriate the city light
shewing up her double existence
no, she is not
she is a cat with her pride
a rose with its thorns
a woman of her own minor universe
because
her heart doesn't belong to a hurly burly life
it belongs to her mother
from a plate of hopes she whips up
it belongs to her father
from a pocket of longings he burries
it belongs to someone
from a shed of tears he wipes
much love,
Niken
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