Today God Gives Milk / And I

I Am So Imperfect, Can You Love Me When Really My Soul Is Deformed? Will You Love Me Anyhow?

I Grow Old On My Bitterness.

I Was Spread Out Dailyand Examined For Flaws.

Poetry To Me Is Prayer.

Perhaps I Am No One. True, I Have A Body And I Cannot Escape From It. I Would Like To Fly Out Of My Head, But That Is Out Of The Question.