Who has seen the wind?
I have, in my unconscious state of mind
We talked and laughed, we asked questions, she was kind
I’m inclined to tell you this and unwind
But I know mankind is colorblind, unkind and refined.
They’re all blind, impatiently blind
Yet it slips one’s mind how inclined they are to open their mind.
So, here I’ll tell you,

I am the wind.
And I know your questions
I’ve heard them all before
Wherever I go
There they are questions, laid in front of me
But I can’t answer them no matter how defined or explicit they are.
They’re untouchable, they are rare and unique,
answering one might lead to me.

Still, you asked and yet I hid.
It wasn’t out of anger or fear, it’s just what I do.
It’s an instinct, like that of a lion to roar.
Yet sometimes I wish, but I know dreaming is not meant for me.
So, I keep on blowing and moving the trees,
Quiet enough that you won’t hear but strong enough that you would feel.

Time is unfair.
When I want you to see me.
When I scream and punch
You just walk by
And I can’t blame time
Because I know why
I’ve known all day long
That no matter how loud I sang or how strong I blew when you passed by I'll still be who I am.

I am the wind
Strong and cold
Yet unknown

A man packs his bags, opens the door that was once his and leaves.
Behind him, his daughters and her broken wife.
This was the end of a long war of broken hearts and thieves.
The man went to a new woman, who was once his nightlife.

She wants her children to be safe, but vengeance grew in her heart.
He, the leaver, wants to be forgiven, but pride is much stronger than his desires.
First the papers, then the unpaid bills and child support, everything is falling apart.
Refusing to share the blame, all his lies backfire.

He can no longer see his daughters, he no longer knows how to love, bad choices escalating.
The daughters leave him, the mother marries a good guy, he marries the witch of the night.
He is texting and calling no replies from his blood, he can no longer feel, he is just deteriorating.
God, he is falling, “Raul, you all right?”

Raul? He wonders, why didn’t she call me dad.
“I just wanted to tell you, that mom said that you have to stop treating me like a messenger.”
He looks perplexed at her daughter, when did she grow? Who is the lad?
“Let’s go, dad,” She says to the lad next to her. They hop on the plane leaving Ecuador, with no sadness or pity to him whatsoever.


Leaving the man behind as he left them once, with his mouth that once said the word the ruined his life.

Atypical that’s what I think of myself  but no one cares, their lives go on indefinitely
Because who knows what life has to offer, what is life, my teenage eyes are blinded and can't comprehend or understand such complex questions.
Caring for none than thyself. Those words are mentioned to me, every time I attempt to say or do anything for my family.
Despite all the people and a family that accompany us, we still feel unheard and unloved.
Existentialism is a cruel thing. I’m not ready, not ready for my comptent of existence.
Fear and terror are instilled in my heart, a fear of what the future has to bring.
Growth. I see my own growth and germination and I feel lost
Have I learned enough? Will I survive in this enhanced world? Has my heart grown enough?
I miss my innocence. Innocence was bliss. A wonderful and unexpected bliss. It was protection, protection from the world that I now have to face.
Joy is not something as easy to feel as it had been, joy was underestimated by me. Joy is not underrated
Keen to survive and lay my roots down. Keen to believe in goodness and love.
Lost, that's what I am, lost in a sea of people
Maltreatment is not something that is inflicted by others, it's something that one can inflict on thyself. Maltreatment is disdain that runs deeper than any blade
Nostalgia is overwhelming but it's something that I feel most of the days
Oppression clouds my thoughts and feeling, as I try to find the light that is my voice.
People pass by and can't hear or see me. I am being ignored by people who know who they are.
Quivering, my hands are still quivering from all the pain and memories.
Realizing that hope is for fools.
Shoving my feeling inside
Trying to grasp on reality
Understanding that my existence is not known.
Victory will be one of those words unheard for me.
Wilting and withering. I am slowly wilting and withering into the ground.
X-rays won’t fix me as I go down this path of disdain
Years will pass and I still can't comprehend why I am here.
Zippering up and hunkering down.