• The strikes to my chest,

    are taken like a spetsnaz,

    into the beating below my breast,

    while candy weights my pockets,

    I fall, red faced and worn,

    like wrappers of sweets,

    trampled and torn.



    it is only skin,

    just a bit ripped,

    such a pain, only so thin,

    I feel there is hope,

    unknown and unseen,

    felt only when my eyes envelope,

    when my thoughts are allowed to dream.