Dirty Old Girl

Lots of flesh

on not so much bone

feet on the ground

but head in the clouds.

She mixes black and white

never reaching grey

and lives a constant fight

between her two ones.

Lots of anger

and so much love

and her childish hope

laughing at her wisdom.

She speaks of silence

and writes about feelings

as if it were easier to understand

when they are written.

Lots of countries

inside herself

without borders

bothering her 

mixing their languages

in linguistic knots

and wrongs and rights.

Here or there? Right or Wrong?

Yes or No? Where and: Why?

Lots of questions

and so few answers

and the quest:

never stop questioning

and never accept the answers.

She stepped on many mistakes

to get things right

and now she's certain

that she's wrong.

Lots of everything

and still not enough

and it'll only end 

when death releases her.