Tuesday, March 13, 2012

monolog pekat malam

there are days when i just stop everything and start looking at the mirror--
looking for my mother.
no matter how hard--
i still cant find her.

the only memory of her was of her deathbed.
and some foggy sight of her faded soul--

such days are today.

i wonder if have her still--
might i be more of grace?
more poise and laced?
be womanly in soul and face?


29 years of age--
and i still have no clue--
on how to NOT be a shrew.

i am my father's child.
a girl--
raised by pack of wolves.

the jungle book might be fun to watch,
great to tell, jovial top notch.
and yes, mowglee DOES love his bagheera and baloo--
but inside the show, might none know what mowglee knew?

i am--
all this while--
a girl.

and not a wolf so wild.

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