She has no scars.
She needs no wings.
She bleeds like an angel crying for her sins.

She weeps for her feelings and loses them in the rain.
She’s dead in the morning until she drinks the golden liquid that can leave a nasty stain.
She waits, she commands, she’s ready with her plan.
She delivers new children into the world without a helping hand.

We stand and stare and wonder how they can...

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I walk with my little son
He would follow me to the edges of the galaxy
Just to tell me his story of his love for reality.

He waits for my return
Then tells me he misses me
With a smile, a cuddle and kiss that reminds me he’s here in this world.

He gives me tasks to do
While playing in the evening
Then I read him a story
Way past bedtime.

We walk in the morning
While he points out...

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