Tomorrow’s a world, with yesterday’s flavour
Looks at me in the eyes and they burn.
What illness is this? Could this be pain?
Could this be sweat? Sure tastes like sweat,
as salty as the salt they gave to ghostly legions.
I’m searching for a definition, for a way
to understand, to tell my mind
what my heart feels and my eyes do,
if the river I give birth to is more than water.