Friday, January 1, 2016


by Dorota Quiroz

My Words, my enemies...
Image from
Fighting me constantly
Ready to pierce
With the coldness of their swords

My Words, my hostages...
Fed with emotions
Ready to escape
To revenge their silence

My Words, my thieves...
Stealing my peace of mind
Ready to take away
What is the dearest to me

My Words, my addiction...
Injecting poison in my heart
Ready to burst it
With a rapid high

My Words, my pride...
Deformed by accent
Ready to gleam
At the sound of conversation

My Words, my babies...
Born of my thoughts
Ready to be aborted
So they won't cause problems

My Words, my life...
Surviving under extreme conditions
Ready to die
At my command

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