Didn’t they tell you to keep your head down?
Your stomach is a battlefield
Not to be tickled
Your heart is a seashell
To leave in the sand
The greedy eyes of men with silver tongues
Do not know how to be delicate anymore
The embraces they shared with their mothers are too far away now
Their bodies have cried for tenderness for too long now
They have turned into something made of sandpaper and salt
And can only speak in gashes of the skin.