I wake up this morning

raises my weary head

where am I?

my skirt for a pillow

the earth is my bed

I have become the devil’s temptation

on the run

I have no contact with the living

my mind speaks a language I don’t

understand

my heart is waste -a ghost town-

my soul scare myself to death

I keep on running

I’m cursed and born in sin

whose daughter I am?

I have no conscience

I don’t live for others or to

satisfied the world

I live to survive

I’ve seen to much death

and in my boots I have all I

need to protect myself

I don’t know love, but I have feelings

for my horse I can’t describe

-maybe it is love-

and don’t dare touch my horse before

I lay five foot deep

because me and him are dances on

empty wallets

flashing back to a life I never had

so I drown it out with leftovers

I find of old whiskey

who have I become?

I take my stallion back to the dusty

road of shades of tones of loneliness

this is my life

-grace of glory-

-Orkidedatter-