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Kirah Jul 2020
And one day, when you've tried enough,
When you have said sorry again and again,
fly off like a bird and hide in the thicks,
And only let out your song to the world.
Kirah Jul 2020
When a poet gets tired, she never lets go,
When a poet feels stabbed, she never stabs herself,
When a poet is worked up, she never says a word,
When the heart of a poet gets too hot, that she can't stay,
She goes out to find a shoulder to lean on, but when she doesn't find one,
She let's the tears flow out drawing patterns on paper that only she can comprehend,
She knows how to conceal the spears that clutch in her soul,
And only those who read between her lines get to spot the pepper in the plate.
Kirah Jul 2020
If you're somewhere, dark
dark like the pains in your heart,
you're stuck up in your past,
you are losing sight of the present,
like the doors opening for you.

And when your eyes well up,
Look up and the sun will,
dry up your tears,
send glimmers to your soul,
send warmth to your heart,
And yours will be a dry scar
Kirah Jun 2020
o'er the shore, a man,
clinging onto his crutch, like,
it bears his golds, he's
younger than yesterday, he,
never knows how, man, woman,
and the kids,  know his teeth set,
he sometimes is tacky,
that's for a human, he loves,
he loves me, my mum and papa,
his blare when we come swimming,
is suffice a tell, though he's never,
like, totally told us his roots,
he is secret, secret like the fairy land,
LA La land that envelopes in him,
and the flowery scenery he doesn't see,
but lives a delusion,
secret like the angelets that encompass,
those that failed, to cross him over,
like he's been craving but no longer,
he's the butterfly flying in the desert,
that could spot a rose in the thorns,
he's never seen us, mama, papa and I,
we've lived an illusion.
Kirah Jun 2020
I know of a neighbor next door,
She’s stuck up in the winters,
With a cabin in her igloo,
That crunches cracks, that,  
When she peepn’ through,
The world stops to look,
Her silence falls like the bullets,
I checked her timeline,
And her closet's in pink,
Like her hair, like her skin,
she loves what she's got, but,
in fear of what the world will see,
When I near to say hello,
She clenches on her fist,
galloping her soronity, like the,
secret word engraved in her palm,
when my kids ‘re in her lawn, she,
smiles, then shutters in precision, so,
harsh, that the igloo thaws to his freeing,
a man, whose not set eyes on his born little,
he only but presumes a beauty, one so quiet,
like the crutches he's clutching, on his left,
on his right, interlocked palms,
Further end, the palm that unfolds,
'atrapado en el amor'
The cabin door bolts.
Kirah May 2020
Do we have a home?
To us who don't have a place in people's hearts,
To us who haven't made peace with our pieces,
To us who our scars seem so deep to want to heal,
To us who have searched and never found,
To us who haven't had the word to share with the world,
Do we still have a place to call ours?

If you have met people who loved you,
And they forgave you for who you are,
Glue to them but quit to blame us for who we are,
We have tried, but it didn't work out for us,
We cried but it didn't seem to dry up,
We spoke, but it didn't all come out,
We heard but listened to our hearts each time.

Time and again, we have failed us
We have hurt us all the time,
But isn't that what became of us?
We tried, well, we are off,
Off to meet our destiny, one we don't know
And here and now, I say, if we never return,
We found a place for us and don't come looking for us.
Kirah Apr 2020
This time round,
I'm done,
Done with loving me,
Done with self care,
And the skin care routine,
I'm so done,
Buying marbles,
And having stones hurled at me.
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