Thoughts

Heart of Kind
Compassionate Touch
Head upon my breasts
this world always asked him
for too much
stick labels with the
predestined mold
seems as though he was created
for me to hold
short little words, could not
account for what I've
learned
we ponder at the stars, with
a bitter tongue
resentment against a history
a history that makes a
heart, unkind
while the glowing stars unwind