R.I.P.
An acronym.
Rest in peace.
But it stands for more:
A rip of the heart,
The tear of someone
From the earth,
The shredding of
An entire lifetime.
But we must learn,
Eventually,
To let our loss
Rest in peace.

We went to the doctor
To hear the news
Of a birth.
He told us it would come;
We had nine months.
And within those months,
The birth took place.
Birth of the treatments,
Of the bills,
Of an afterlife.

Everyone was speaking English,
But here I was,
Unable to understand.
I know not which language I was speaking,
But my tongue couldn't form the right words;
My mind couldn't wrap around theirs.
As their words flowed like a majestic river,
Mine remained trapped in my head,
Shut in a barricade,
And so I remained silent.

I’ve gotten into knitting lately,
Even though I’m young.
It is a calming activity,
Accumulating rows one by one.

The relaxing part is the perseverance.
It takes time to make progress,
Yet once you finish,
The product is worth it.
You created it all yourself.
That feeling of achievement
Doesn’t leave me in stitches,
But in awe of the world.

You use up your resources,
The ball of yarn gets smaller.
Soon you will need a box
To contain all of your passion.
You yearn to create,
To achieve,
And to accomplish.

Repetition and persistance
Can reward all who try.
Even though a stitch may be lost,
Or the needles clang together,
You can always get back to it.
Giving up is pointless.

I try to distract myself
With stories that are made up,
With hobbies that waste time,
With friends that don’t know.

But yet,
My thoughts can’t avoid it.
They can’t avoid you.
I wish the stories were stories of us.
I wish we could have hobbies together.
I wish I were spending time with you,
Not them.

I try to distract myself from my problems.
I try to not complain.
I try to keep the emotions in.
But it’s so hard.
I want to remain strong,
But the battle rages on.
My armor is falling apart.
I’m falling apart.

Nobody knows me.
Some know parts of me,
Others know other parts of me.
But the puzzle has never been fully assembled.

They think they can tell me who I am,
But they’re just telling me who they want me to be.
I wish they knew,
But I like the mystery.
I like interacting,
But solitude is best.

If I give away too much,
It’ll hurt more.
I won’t be myself
Because I’ll have given all of myself away.