She's the quiet one, who
never stands out the chick
who'll rather write a poem
than speak to a crowd.

The one nobody notices
when she walks down the
hall, the girl who's voice is
unknown but her mind's
full of thoughts.

She's the introvert, the girl
in disguise, the one who
builds up walls so her
life won't collapse.

The one whose tough
exterior in reality is
full of cracks.

She's a timid soul, a
daydreamer at heart,
creating the ideal future
while she tries to
forget her past.

The person who tells
her pains to a stranger
who asks, but can't
have a conversation
with those that are
by her side.

She's your classmate,
she's your sister and
friend, she's your
cousin and niece, she's
your aunt, she's your tale.

she's the girl that stares
back when you glance
at the lake, the one
no one knows, she is I,
she is her.

I'm not broken so why are you trying to fix me?
My wings are not fractured so why are you trying to mend them?
My world is not drifting apart so why are you trying to glue it back together?
My body is not injured so why are you determined to heal it?
My thoughts are not scrambled so why are you obsessed with  decoding them?
My love is not wounded so why are you trying to change it?
Stop trying to fix me I'm not broken, I'm just built differently.

You want me to look without seeing,
to see without looking, to laugh
without smiling, to speak without sound,
to breathe without exhaling, to climb
without effort, to walk without movement,
to sleep without closing my eyes, you want
me to live without being.

Trapped in a world where the weak can't survive
where the voice of the poor can't be heard for afar,
where one's dream falls apart and reaching for it
seems impossible, where the tears of a man can't
resolve any obstacles.

Only thoughts of fright cross your mind all day long,
feeling like your heart has been ripped from your
soul, looking to your side and no friends you can
find, trying to figure out how much longer will all
this last.

Words like humble and sweet are effaced from your
mind, while anguish and affliction become examples
of your daily life, you won't hear the kind remarks
that might be said about you, for you can't appreciate
what your heart is not accustomed to.

18 years you have lived yet your beauty has
faded away, your innocence has been stolen from you
and the're many suspects to blame, there's no point
trying to fix what has what has already been destroyed,
your genial smile was erased and your youthfulness
came to a stop.

There's no mountain you can climb nor a path you
can walk, nor a forty miles ride you can jump in and
go, nor a train you can board or a plane you'd come up
to, that will ever even lead you to accomplish your
dreams and goals.

Searching for a way out, even though out you are,
four dollars is all there's left, to feed the kids pay rent
and try to survive, blindfolded you are, you won't
see what you want, putting your aspirations to vanish
into a thing of the past, why are you simply living
the life that you're told t? why can't you for once
live the life you always desired to?

In a time where the corrupt owns it all and much more,
where a man's state of frenzy is irrelevant even to the poor,
where the lion hunts the deer and its flesh is torn apart, where
words like "finally I did it" are only said by plutocrats.

The mountain was to high for you to climb it all, its height
was to extreme, you fail at going up, there weren't any
guides that showed you how to climb, or give you any tips
at how to safely survive, however there were signs at every
place you looked, which said that at some point a fall
you must endure.

Regardless of the money that you have in banks,
despite all the Ferraris and the planes you have,
you're still disappointed with the man you see,
that's because no luxury will ever succeed at
making your life feel like is complete.

It is hard to determine where this new route will take me,
I can't see any clear signs that may guide me to safety.
A new chapter I begin, expecting the unknown, I've
read this book before but these pages all have grown.
The wings of the turtle begin to show traces of life, I
hope that the flight it takes doesn't crash like a wild
kite. Entering a path that many have tried to run, I'll go
in just crawling, then I'll walk and perhaps may jump.
I'll have to resist temptation not to run it and smash my bones.

Words let me breathe, sentences liberate me,
language is my freedom you won't take that away from me.
Rivers could dry up, sound all become mute,
as long as there is writing my thoughts won't be obscured.