when I die
do not burn me
or bury me inside the ground
instead cover me in ink
and surround me with papers

- a poet never dies

healing is a process
just like breathing
it continues until you die

I feel lost
she complained
he replied
the moon is also lost
and eclipsed
before it shines

whenever she felt lost
the moon aligned the stars
in the sky guiding her way
back home

she carried a cloud of thoughts
over her head and when it overflowed
it rained through her hands
on the paper in the form of poetry

she was taught to be quite
and her opinions were worthless
she was kept silent every time
she uttered something negative-"NO"
now that she's all grown she has
been told to fight alone but how
could she fight alone when all
she ever learned was that
her voice was never heard