Do the lights a boulevard
take grip where you guard
the things you’d change me
I pray you feel not a shard?

Cuts will accompany curl
the toes of some young girl
afflicted she can not fly let
it morph birth her worlds.

Escape to fly into fields
thick but soft touch sought
help her fly away up up up
unto the stratosphere aloft.

Beauty is created in creators
who can bear child in womb.
Those same tears usher in
change at a gravesight tomb.

The light in a young child
brings the things we sing
as seasons change and while
the earth warmth it brings.

Supplying the earth with life
a gift beyond what man can do.
I see a woman weep her tears
they fall as if mountain dew.

They beg such a being built
for the pain of childbirth love
exudes emotion grips women
create as does the Lord above.

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