By Cyclopseven R
Fighting breath a daily affair
to swallow food a task practiced
the child frail in look
contorted frame her only house
she lie flat on her back
notorious indeed the mat
sores scrap wide her skin red.
limitations a hindrance
she remains locked in her frame
many she wants to say
alas…none we could decipher.
the person inside raring to go
she, a spark of the divine
lost the key to her hut
she suffers in silence;
her eyes tossing to right and left
looking for an interpreter
to translate her language she communicates
she fails herself in desperate efforts
because pretentious mankind understand her not.
though I know that she knows a lot
only time will let her express her thoughts
until then I will be searching for the right key
so I may one day unlock her from clutch of that agony.