Woven Affliction Her warm numb fingers are dancing along with the sharp rhythm Resonating sounds as she distinctly mastered the old pattern In every swift move, slits and blood occurs without a warning Got no time to complain; she must be done until the morning Upon her hands entwine both tapestries and her poor child's life In the realm of truth, she's hoping her honest work would suffice Yet the treacherous strings of fate are so cruel to be true Wails are a lullaby of her newborn son waiting for food And so she weaves
JERELYN FAITH SALIBIO
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