My shadow has a shadow of its own
It creeps, it stretches, it haunts me more than does the unknown
between lightning and thunder
between my brain and the one that beats, or more like, hammers
between scorn and yearning
I can’t trust my own company
between the face and the reflexion, is my chaser
demanding caution
‘don’t look at me in anger’,
I’m not the one you’re looking for
not any longer
Alana Marroquim, Feb. 2019
The family tree has been decaying as fast as I’ve been withering
its roots rotting, its branches thinning
the mother regretting, the father forgetting
the children refusing to outgrow infancy
it’s been on its knees, hunched back and sight decrease
and I’m not even twenty-three, I had not even tainted my vows
I had not even been freed;
our tongues have been broken
our language are words unspoken
our swords duller and duller
illness is one bastard merciless ruler
Alana Marroquim, Feb. 2019
Bravura Repentina 