this is a poem about love,

             not boys, for once, or lesbians –
                           but roomie love.

my roommate is my other half,
like when we were little and chewed halves of gummy bears to make two-flavored ones with different colored heads and feet.

3:30 am on a Monday night,
all of our classes the next day, no homework done –
who else will stay up with me to read over each other’s oldest emails,
all disgustingly useless,
all marked as “sent with high importance”

who else will write poetry with me in the looming shadow of Chemistry tests
help keep the Spring terms exams and US History APs at bay
with jokes that aren’t funny but I laugh at anyways
because you are stupid and you think they are –

and everybody in the dorm thinks
we are insane, but that’s okay with me because we have

enough inside jokes to live on for a year
and  
                    each other

Everything we'd designed
used to fit us both;
gorgeously

All the songs we'd sung
used to sound;
perfectly.

But look at us now
words quenched, faces dismayed;
sadly

Where are all those castles we'd built; in the air
where are all those poems we'd written; in the stars
where are  all those gardens we'd planted ; with hope

And that fire that kept our spirits alive
Drifting through the winds of despair is now
ashes

TV screens, social media,
All  anaesthesia
Just a regular dose of it we swallow
To keep us surviving
the reality that this world us a crumbling mess,
An empty hole, a worthless gem
A beautiful box that only offers lies and mistrust.

Popularity, celebrity
Everybody's searchin' for some worth, some place to fit in
Somewhere to stick their name in the hall of fame.
But take it's all anaesthesia, for it doesn't add or subtract a pound on the scale.

The hottest stars, the hottest gossip,
Father look what hypnosis,your kids are drinking.
Falling for the fake but sweet illusions and fantasies
Where time is turned to static and makes them forget of the long road ahead still to be taken.

Father look what anaesthesia your kids are taking in...
And sadly, it's strong can't let the truth through the door
Yet, we all know the blind can only run.into a trap if they ignore the voice warning in the background.

Father I wish you could open their eyes before the anaesthesia kills their sight...
For eternity

It's more than just a country
It's more than just history
It's more than what people see
Cause they only see  a very small portion
And what I see,
Is the big picture
Much more beautiful than all Picasso's artworks
For to me,
It's mother nature's masterpiece
One that keeps on getting prettier with age;
How shall I say it ,
It's an international controversy'
It's Rwanda