The-Orifice-Oracle

Her fingers are dirty, Her hair tangled. She's a mess, some would say. But at least her heart is pure. His wrists covered in scars, His stomach roaring with hunger. He's damaged, some would say. But at least his love is whole. Her breathing is heavy, And her skin is pale. She's dying, some would say. But at least she knows how to live. At least a woman without a house Knows how to make a home. Hand her a loaf of bread, And she won't devour it, Because she knows how to treasure The beauty in life. At least a boy without a smile Knows how to hold on, Longer than someone who's never fallen, And never dared to learn How to fly. At least a g