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Nysheeka Pahanni Oct 2017
It's like the sun setting in hell.
A great lake of flames and fire.
Paper thin skin.
Lifeless broken and robotic hearts.
The black ashes blowing between bones.
Elephant graveyard.
People speak but do they really care?
After they say say a quick hi,
It's like you aren't even there..
Broken glass shatters in the deep crevices of scars that enter the intertwined perfect membranes of bodies.
Nysheeka Pahanni Apr 2017
She had to drink
To numb whatever it was she had left
It always was the scent of strawberries
She got so good at knowing what would happen with him just by the smell
She no longer fought it
That would leave her with death treats and black eyes.
Hands wrapped around her like a boa constrictor.
If she fought
That would be bad
Better to pass out
Then to draw attention to ones self and shout
She didn't deserve the time of day or attention
To keep her breathing
All on a burning bed
Nysheeka Pahanni Mar 2017
I used to watch him everyday.
He always bought flowers to the ship yard.
A few years ago, the shipyard sank.
Everyday he met the woman he was going to marry.
Everyday she accepted the flowers with tears in her eyes.
Every night he wondered the streets of insanity.
I guess Null Street was the only place he could feel free.
Like himself.
One day he didn't bring flowers.
He had a bottle of whiskey instead.
His lady had left town.
They never let him know.
Glass smashed all over the ground.
He crossed the street in dismay,
refusing to obey the traffic light.
Or maybe he was just tired,
but he got hit that night.
Just like that,
in a blink of an eye
I saw his fragile body flying in the sky.
The impact instantly crushed his skull
I heard bones breaking,
I saw it all.
He landed in the ship yard.
The next day his lady got off of her boat
waited around,
she saw the glass.
She saw the reflection,
of the man who just passed.
And all she did was weep
no more flowers or candy
the man on Null Street had a thing for Ms. Sandy.
Nysheeka Pahanni Mar 2017
A strained relation
romantic vacations
confused
One minute I love you
the next I hate you
I pictured myself
just the other day
emerging your head
in the lake of forever
twisters all around
as I said a prayer
your hands holding mine
not in a romantic way
trembling
gasping, panting
it's okay
you can breathe now
let my hands go
never has a body felt so light
in the great sea of despair
Nysheeka Pahanni Mar 2017
I see the world from your point of view
I always took it for grantid
I love when we both stop to smell the flowers
I see the world from your point of view
The ladybug miles away
From the shops on the street
The clouds that look like butterflies
And marshmallows
The tall skyscrapers
All of the busy bustling on the streets
The escalators that are so high
They look as though they are headed
To heaven
And I panic
You are okay
Much more braver than I
I hate heights and crowds
You hate bushes and bugs
I hate loud noises
You get frustrated easily
We meltdown
Life is a journey indeed.
I am your mother
You are my son
You are my daughter
We are friends
In this busy
Sometimes not so friendly world
We are cut from a different cloth
We are all Virgos
We all have autism
I am happy
I can see the world from your point of view
This poem is for my 2 children who have Autism and myself being recently diagnosed, I always wondered why I felt so different growing up. Now I know. I always wondered why it was so easy for my ti relate to and understand my children, now I know.
Nysheeka Pahanni Mar 2017
You are my Earth,
The spitting image of me.
Depression is the realist thing
That I have been unfortunate enough to
Live and relive.
Unfortunately I couldn't see.
Beyond the baby years.
Beyond the collicky cries.
You needed love and I wasn't there emotionally
Because no one loved me,
I didn't know how to love then.
And I apologize
I know that you are young now,
But you probably don't think that I care.
They have forced fed you lies.
I want you back and we miss you so much.
Oh if I could just reach out to hug you,
To kiss you and squeeze you.
To tell you how much we miss you..
We love you
There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of you
Son..
Nysheeka Pahanni Jan 2017
She had a weakness for love yes she wants to be loved..
Loved like a rose when it travels down stream by the river
The clear stream it carries the rose with such grace
It's careful not to let it reach land that cannot be reached
The bird soars up above wanting to save it from  love
Wanting to capture it for it's own selfish needs and desires..
Yes I have a weakness for love. I've seen it many times in many forms.
"Oh why can't I have love like that?"
The rose thought to herself.
Until she began to make herself sound silly.
She got so sick of love and the heavy weight it carried.
And at last her petals began to fall and she was buried.
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