There are patterns in our behavior 
Science, observing and postulating
Experts we being in guessing game.
Holes of footprints on a wet beach
Tell us the bullock cart that went by
The way the bullocks shivered their
Skins of busybody flies of morning.
The menstrual periods of  women
Who cried in light hours of brutality
The way they  formed tiny red maps
On humanity's cloth of useless love.

There are patterns they have found
To the way the little flowery spiral
Works and replicates in our bodies
And to the way  new bodies are born
But not to the way they die breaking
New mother's hearts in old bodies.


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