I'm scared of the future
And how I'll be
Fragile
Depressed
Filled with anxiety
Will I have a handle on my life
Or will the wheels fall off?
And I'm left to die
Will my feelings for change
Do they remain?
Does love exists in my dictionary
Or is it replaced with hate?
Do I see clearly?
Or is it all a blur?
Do my friends stick by me?
Do I sit in the house alone?
Do I grow old and forget my nae?
Or does the noose come to claim me?
Am I happy or sad?
Do I have kids?
Am I lost in my imaginations
Or living them instead?

Words,
they cut deeper
than steel,
make you bleed more
than a bullet,
etch themselves
into your skin,
ring in your ears
and ache,
and ache,
and ache
and ****.

when I began to write
poetry
all those years ago

I was amazed to find
that I even
had a voice.

It was a gift
that I never
hoped for.

I only shared light.

There is too much
darkness.

And then
little by little
I had to write
about the monsters
in the deep.

And my writing
got to be
unrecognizable.

Those couldn't be
my words.

Don't bury me
in a grave
in a big old box
I've known too much
darkness.

And so here I am
trying to balance
injury
with hope for a new future

That may be called
healing.

I don't wear smiles
like clothes,
like you wear makeup

I don't choose in aisles,
in stores,
just for the occasion

You can try
and you'd fit right in my shoes
but I'd never fit in yours

I don't wear jewels
but I'd love
to wear your denial
mmm,
your scent for awhile...

She has no mirror
but where flirt the leaves with the pond
she comes in the cool of noon
mixing the dark of her hair
with the summer shade
dipping into glass green water
her toes and far above
and all the pond sees
encrypts within the bubbles of rainbow
that only her clothes
swelled in awe
can read.

You are there,
Never here,
Never near.

I am here,
Never there,
Never aware.

The both of us,
We're moving dots;
Always crossing paths,
But never actually meeting in the middle.