Blue Dot

She was grounded and stiff.
In an indigo shield,
Green patterned scarves.
Dehumanised with reasons, and theories.
Buried with her old enemies.

Her magnificent children, crushed the pore of her dermal.
Pierced the wooden nail through he thumb.
Her blood scattered over the air
Like violence
Her bohemian silk stolen
Ripped, and shredded to denials.

She cried ten thousand streams of pacific coast.
Vines, and thorns grew from her shoulder bone.
(And lies, and beliefs, and wars)
She wandered in circle, in a static motion of destruction.

Her borealis eyes are getting tired.
Her ozone breath, fastened.
Her fluid soul, dried.
Dusted in her own lungs.

And still,
None of the offsprings wipe up her scars.