I bleed
words

not blood;

so if you hurt me,

I'll scar
verses,

not wounds.


*Sandoval

Yin
Yang
Both compose
Me
Good
Bad
WIth me,
They are,
Balanced
I am
Everything
Yet to some,
I am nothing
One day,
I was given
To a small child.
The child was
Hopeful.
Loved me.
Couldn't give me up
For anything
At first.
But I crashed down
With
Wave
Upon wave
The child began to
Hate me.
Why?
I'm just doing
What I was made for
Produce,
Good times,
And,
Hardships.
Both equal,
Yes?
But the child,
Didn't want me
Anymore.
It hurt for me
To leave.
It hurt the
Poor,
Poor,
Child.
I didn't want to go
But,
The child made me.
I was nothing but
Pain.
Perhaps,
I am not a good thing
Perhaps,
I am not balanced
More bad,
Than good?
I suppose.
But that's just how
I am.
Aren't I?

The man behind the curtain
Speaking loud and certain
His image twisted and blurred
Larger than life
His armies and might
Imperialism is what he prefers

The little people do his bidden
On the senate floor of Oz
With pockets full
Of yellow brick gold
Their children live like gods

While those outside the castle
Have fallen fast to sleep
Trekking through the ***** field
Light upon their feet

The witches rise
On the centrist floor
The Wizard of Trump
Will have four more

Where are the ruby slippers
For it's time to go home
There's no place like...

Is it better
To have complex sounding poems
With analogies, literary devices, and enriching words galore
Conveying the same message in numerous ways
But sporting a simple ideas

Or
To have simply written
Clearly stated
Easily comprehensibly worded
Poems
Sporting complex ideas?

In elementary school
Things were so much simpler
My three titles-
Artist
Reader
Nice
-Basically defined me
In other’s eyes
...
Now,
I am lost
In a sea of people
No clear direction
No clear idea
Of who I am
Where I belong
will I ever?