Edwin Cordero

These wheels spin
To stares engulfing grins.
No one wants this thing;
The blatant rush drives patience thin.
She's a child, a baby—not worth discriminating.
However, her similarity to adults is irritating
Everyone and everything.

I sink to think of all that could have been:
Our family achieving the American Dream.
It's turned to regret, repenting all those things
Which blurred right and wrong to this brink.
It's all ready gone to nothing.