Walking out

Of what used to be my window

Expecting the morning breeze

Turns out I’m

On a wooden dock I see

Pale horizon instead of trees

From the balcony

Of our home

My mother and I

Observe it all

From the irony

Violence got out

Well insects like you

Deserve to crawl

And all we see is ocean

No motion at the core

No surface to look for

I miss the kind of rays

That burn my eyes

Laying flat on the ground

Made of local soil

Nowhere else to be found

This could be

The one way out

On the flying boat here

There’s no need

For experience

Tomorrow’s plans are so clear

From the balcony

All is blur

My mother and I

Reverse a fall

From the irony

Violence got out

Well engines like this

Deserve to stall

And all we see is ocean

No motion at the core

No surface to look for

I miss the kind of rays

That burn my eyes

Laying flat on the ground