He travels toward me in the shape of a hurricane,
ripping off my skin, breaking my bones,
forcing me to stop the bleeding.
His words move at a pace of a tornado,
a straight path until it abruptly changes,
approaching my weakness at a great speed.
He sends a meteor close to where I stand,
it knocks me off my foundation,
the force so strong I fall for miles.
He is an earthquake loosening my safety valve,
breaking the boundaries and creating cracks,
soon I will crumble as the concrete in this city.
His expression reminds me of painful rebirth,
the one I had to suffer over and over,
so many fields without grass and rivers without fish.
He took countless lives through poisonous kisses,
not knowing what they did,
what their names were given at birth.
His forgiveness never happened,
for us it was no different,
we were lifeless souls gone from our bodies.
Pisaries Creator 
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