What's under your ribs, 
Besides lungs and a mass of blood, 
Circulating through your veins? 

 Is it hate or perhaps a massive grudge,
That doesn't let you breathe,
And sends no oxygen to your brain?

Does the sight escape from your green eyes, 
When they roll to the back of your head?
Can your mind lose itself
In emptyness?

How about your heart--
Is it hollow like the rest?
Or is that your chest?
Let's test.

Put your hand 
On your chest
Do you hear the heart below?
Or are your bones all alone?





Copyright © 2013 Llabira A. Diaz-Garcia
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,  without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
 





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