Oh what could be and what has been
In streams of noiseless worry,
You derive pleasure from earthly things.
Encapsulated in fervor,
Far from the sort of madness
That makes foolish men grow.
How well you resist temptation,
How easily you say no.
Only God could release your burdens
And the memories that weigh heavily
On your sense of self worth
Frequently you beg to differ
The questions I put at arm’s length
You have no answers to give,
In short you lack the strength
To be my one and only
True and everything.
By Jennifer Barajas
A Dead Language 