Obscure

OBSCURE

she writes on hardwood floors and stone painted walls
thinking someone  would care to see
the anecdotes of her life and the words of a heel
she took pictures of dark alleys and moonlit roads
hoping people would take time look
the way she sees the world, a bottomless pit of gloom
she recited lines from ancient books and soulful poems
making everyone even for second try to listen
telling how she comprehends the works of the unread
she cleared out her throat and sang the blues
startling some to stop and be unmoved
singing out her heart filled with dander and woes
she tapped me on the shoulder and smiled as i look back
giving me the impression she’s not well but indeed not mad
taking my hand to hold and keep, making me realize that’s all she needs
Tootai Buzeta
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