I bowed
Out of perfection
I'm running
With a concealed shadow
And they chased
And chased
Will I ever see the bay?
A golden trace of a new born
Shedding glory off this window
Or a rotten dirt
Etched deeply
A scar
Beneath the ocean
Of questions.
- The Rockchick
Marie Joyce B. Negapatan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untitled-248/
