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To hatred but her sister I fall
I am little admitting into being small
To hatred but her sister I fall
Upon you love I fairly call
For remembrance, perseverance, deliverance and all.
Upon you I lean
Carry me now my love, hatred but her sister I plead
I don’t write or speak but I bleed
I drip words that won’t pause nor cease
I dream
I see your reflection keen
To destroy the deep inner part of me
You kill
You bury, you hide and you seal
Under the blanket of love, me
poem
by
Mitta Xinindlu
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