On brisk Autumn mornings
I often find myself looking
outside of my bedroom window.
My eyes always seem to be drawn
to those crisp leaves.
It is not their wide range of colors
that draws me in.
Nor is it the way that they
flow with the wind.
It is the way that they fall,
the way they evolve,
that fascinates my mind.
It is a constant, never ending cycle
of life and death.
It is unavoidable
but sometimes I wish
that those leaves can stay
bright and colorful,
in their purest form.
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
I am from poverty.
I am from sleepless nights,
hoping that my mom lives on.
I am from the news of my brother's death.
I am from being molested as a child.
I am from not knowing my father.
I am from living on the streets of Amsterdam,
trying to make it on to the next day.
I am from standing outside the park,
dreaming of being able to play stress-free.
I am from selling my body as a teen
to scrap up enough money for food.
I am from countless beatings.
But most importantly, I am from God.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 11:29 PM UTC
I hear his muddy footsteps
as he enters the room.
The stall door creaks
from the slightest touch of his monstrous hands.
I was only six at the time,
so innocent, so unaware of life's real darknesses.
The smell of alcohol on his breath
fills the room.
I am alone, alone, alone.
I cry for help, but the only answer
is silence.
I beg him to stop
but that only entices him.
Suddenly, my childhood is lost
with the slip of his hand.
Today, I am still haunted by those memories.
Still wary of strangers and what they may do.
And what for?
For your instant gratification?
For your ****** release?
No more. Enough.
You do not get anything from this.
Because I am still walking.
I am still alive.
I am still that same boy you violated 8 years ago.
You lose. I win.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:42 PM UTC