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 Dec 2018 MaeW
Mars D'Mello
A flight here and a flight there
Let me compensate for not being there
When you needed me
When you need me
I taught you how to deal with pain
While being lonely
I thought you how to fight away the demons
By leaving them to feast on your flesh
To gnaw at your bones
To leave you for dead
And I return to take you on a trip
To take you away from the misery that i am blind toward
That I do not know you have
I taught you how to talk through your fears
Now the only ones you talk to are in your brain

No father, I will not shed a tear
I am the water beneath the desert
the undiscovered landmines in the soil
I am held back tears and the god of war
The war against pain
As I fight in the trenches
In a battlefield facing myself
Battling an enemy that is closer than the end of my nose
Breathing so heavy, until the pain to goes to hell


Don’t let me see the tear stains on your sweater sleeve
You are not the child i birthed
You are but a machine
Do you not feel a thing?
Can you not say you’re glad?
I’ve never seen you smile
Is that a tear in your eye?
Save it for later
Throw away the paper
You cannot be another traitor
To your brain
Do not talk about your heart
you are not a painter

No woman, i am not your child
I am nobody’s daughter
Just a trapped little boy
Screaming through the windows
Cause you won’t let me out
Of this house made of hate
With these cracks in the walls
That lets in little rays of love
That I am too afraid to touch
Because i barely know love

But the walls of my house are my skin and my bones
And the prison called *** that is set on the roof
No I’m not complaining I’m just being honest
Didn’t you teach me that when you said I was going to be nothing
When you called me a pig and I learnt to cry silently
Now I almost always cry silently
~~
For these are the scars that I bear on my soul
That I wear on my sleeve
For i have been told that there is beauty in acceptance
In accepting what you’ve faced
And learning how to be loved
And how to be alone
 May 2018 MaeW
Lazhar Bouazzi
To the Goddess of morn
who made bread from fire
and taught me how to read
to read the wreaths of coffee
into the songs of dawn.

And to the Mason who
showed me how to hammer,
form out of chaos
and cherish the scent of
the cement on grey-green walls.

© LazharBouazzi

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