The rivers turns:                                                  

i escaped myself,

disheveled and exhausted.

it was a holy war:

i felt discarded,

voices I do ignore.

you played chess,

controlling your pieces,

attacking me,

dirty strategies capturing

what was difficult to see.

every move was a checkmate,

a stalemate, a whisper of my

own fate.

your time ran out before the

game was completed

but it was me who resigned.

in the end, our hearts

were defeated.

Karla Bardanza

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