Madness with hope.
With a bent back, exploded face,
Uncercumcised fury, unrepenting joviality,
Packaged pregnancy, butt-naked navel,
Coupled with invisible companions.
She fulfils the prophecy of Rocks playing the role of men
She rides on exposed feet.
She delegates the power of weilding the reins to her shoulders
She is professionaly mad.
Punctually exhibiting confident smiling teeth,
not a single decline from the Ladder of self esteem.
never having to not have nothing to do.
Ever so humble with her wasted wisdom.
Once a celebrated branch of a family tree
Now a prominent pioneer of the street team.
When the world wonders she slumbers,
With no goals in the game she’s a hunter.
The universe but her seems marveled,
how she journeys with mysteries unraveled.
Such as the sapien whom with her slept
Whose sperm ressurected her seeds.
Sanity breeds not satisfaction.
Not even ritualists have use for crazy heads.
There is a glitter of hope when with a smile or a sweat,
the so called sorrow ceases to be a threat.