I keep silent until I no longer have the patience for it

Not a premature baby
But as tiny as a kitten
Incubated for the first few hours of existence
And told that might be dying.

Those mentioned before just added
To the reasons you dislike me
Aside from the fact that I'm a girl
And you have always wanted a boy for your firstborn.

I remembered the line from the movie 'Noah'
When Ila asked him why he spared the twins
And he said,"I looked down at those two little girls
and all I had in my heart was love."
And wondered if you haven't seen that kind of love
When you looked down on me.

'Cause you held me in your arms
Without gentleness
Like I'm not vulnerable
Like I'm not from your own flesh and blood.

As I'm growing into my skin
The more I crave for your attention
For your affection
But I got nothing.

And as the day passed by
The more you made me feel how unwanted I am.


Krystal Marcelo
*01/28/16

soldier of fortune, making moves on the battlefield,
chess checking chances,
Suntzu advances,
as the sun moves and dances.
creeping in trenches, sleeping in shifts,
bullets fly overhead as you hope that they'll miss.
butterflys in the rose fields,
butchered guys in the poppy fields.
broken dreams, decimated teams,
regiments unravelled at the seems
unrivalled scenes that you could never believe.
superhuman movements and medals achieved.
let go and breath, silently amongst violence and tryrants.
No man planned, for no mans land.
The best laid plans lead to mass graves,
massacres last for days, it's hard to understand.
tactics underhand, gas masks steal identies,
you must move fast to counteract the effects of mustard gas
and hidden identities.
popup cemetries, innovative remedies,
death strikes at any moment,
yet it's hard to keep focus.
Don't lose your mind.
Mistakes of mankind, repeated in time.
babyfaced freshmen turn to hardface veterans in the spaces of seconds.
replaced in moments with conscripted kids deplaced from happy homes.
men never found and no chance to atone.
warmongers amongst them that soon change there tones.
railway children leave villages in rubble.
cornered and in trouble as the bodycount doubles.
darknights spent in candlelight
children sleep in there bed as bombers glide overhead.
the bleek reality goes over there heads.
the blitz is a travesty that decimates articheture and leaves structures in travesty.
calamities in the evening and in the morning a start clarity of the destructive reality.
hindsight in bombsites, mortuaries from mortar shells
instructions to give them hell,
you believe them less as each days passes.
bodies piled up in masses, teardrops without caskets.
only dogtags identify the men in the bodybags.
men treated worse than dogs, the living skip over the corpses
of fallen comrades
peace will not come fast. hard to run fast with rations and rucksacks.
bullets start to wizz past as they proceed to fufil dumbtasks,
whiskey in hip flasks. trying to shoot back,
wishing you just get a lift back home to the motherland.
Fighting in foreign lands,
your mother holds her head in her wrinkled hands,
her husband holds her close and hes been there before you.
fought in the great war too and lived through to tell the tale
and ironically see history repeating itself.
a picture of their son sits on the shelf.
he lies wounded in battle, needing there help.
o well.
give them hell.
its just one of many stories to tell.