Sara needed a shoulder
a shoulder to cry on?
In the midst of a bustling market
smelling of fish liver
and rotten potatoes,
she struggled for a glimpse,
a glimpse of that shoulder?
She dashed through that dingy lane,
shadowed by the dimness
of the awkward evening.
Sara still looking...
for a shoulder to cry on?
She climbed up
those winding iron stairs,
she noticed,
what she was looking for?


A pain pierced,
her throat,
like a needle.
Not enough time,
to scream...
A shoulder carried her
to the cemetery.
Sara needed a shoulder
a shoulder to cry on?