Hear echoes of screams, hopeless sighs,
excruciating moans, drops of tearied eyes.
They’re in the walls. They’re in the floor.
They’re in the ceiling. They’re in the door
to her memory’s residual energy antenna.
And all these years, she saw not the dilemma
of living to die while dying to live,
always in-between pushing to give
a damn about herself amidst
the struggle and chaos to subsist.