time takes us
and we let it.

i want to fight it,
but i do not know how.

anger will do nothing to slow it.
but i will still rage, in hopes that it will.
(it’s the only thing i know to do)

when did the flowers
start demanding blood
instead of water?

when did life
start demanding thorns
instead of petals?

i am made of every person i have met,
and every person i will meet.

some are and will be kisses on cheeks,
others are and will be cuts.

i just hope
those that scar will stop pinching as i move.

i’m afraid i am nothing,
without literature, and art.
without words and ink.
without flowers and music.
and most importantly, without you.

‘be careful what you wish for,’ they said.
and i should have taken it to heart.

i asked for change,
for growth,
but i didn't ask to be flooded
with everything all at once.

i didn’t ask for it all to come rushing,
with little time for me to adjust to the weight of it all.

look at the night sky.
see how the stars move,
and the moon changes.

growing and shedding.
cyclical
and never stagnant.

i want to be the same.
moving
and growing.

i am trying to mimic the moon.
but how can someone so limited,
achieve such growth?

how can i endure the loss
and still wait for the bloom?

the blood of my mother is sweet.
but the blood of my father is sour.

no wonder i am certain of nothing.
even my blood does not know
how it should taste.