Rat In The Hearth
Made of flesh and questions
rises from a box of matches
attempting a shot a day
reborn distracted
He runs into the mud of his escapes
to search for clean kitchens
in search of food with which to curse
There are hordes of thoughts
with long tails and big eyes
those who run
in the slums of the heart
trying to withstand
A monument to himself
caresses of gnawed
nights in the uniforms themselves
They run without warning
these mice in the heart
always looking
a place that have no memory
and especially
that there can't exist
poem by Jbkaria Giovanni Cb
Added by Poetry Lover
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