The Girl.

In rows, is how they put us then. Placed on dirt. And scared of men. Sharp gravel spits We grip the hand that holds us down. Fond of the gardens cake Through mistakes Live honestly for lying's sake. Keep the holy in our hearts And let our hearts be torn apart. I am a huckleberry. Born from a mother who is a dove. The only prettier thing than love Is a smile to build a home from.