The Girl in the Asylum
By Michael Kofi Esson
Curses swirl and hurl all around her,
Vile breath and venomous tongue whirls around her, as if the sun around the world,
Hate lingers in eyes that pierce, vanishing shadows of whispers unfurl,
All the while, the girl in the asylum stands strong, hands on hips,
On her pierced lips, a defiant grin, time in her grip.
A thousand tear drops fall from her gaze,
Swift like gossip, her smile beams a thousand sun rays,
Bare feet embrace the cold caress of the earth beneath,
She studies the encircling walls: a glass front, a T.V forever replaying an endless sitcom, and me — standing on the east,
Bathe in her glow, I’m entranced in fascination,
Her gaze intense, delves into my thoughts, sparking revelations.
Innocence blooms in her embrace, a hint of black from her sweater on my palms,
Thin, dark curls soothe my shoulders calm,
Her smile reveals teeth with a touch of yellow, like a golden pearls’ reflection,
And in a whisper, she says “I like you, because you don’t dress fancy”, a heavenly connection.
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