The Riddle Poem by Efren Petalver Carranza

I cut my life in to pieces
Of light and deeper curves
In numbers and shapes mixed within
The mystery of my own color

In this five by seven of me
A heart where mother lived
Seven years after I was born
It’s still torn and abandoned

The green valley of rice and corn
I’m 3rd and 7th of 8 grains
To see a sky above the fluffy clouds
To the land of black, yellow, and white

My “shoes-lady’s land” wasn’t my dream
To watch the Ford- Rockefeller’s ending time
Yet my fate lies onto the stripes of red and white
In the 31st of its 50 stars

Thereafter three squares tire to be abused
By economy’s worst obstructions failed
The red-lines that went too many circles
Hacked me with them in jagged edge