Thoughts. Secrets.
Hidden behind your stare
You're scared? Of what?
Don't be.
Allow me.
Let me in.
Be not afraid.
What is it you're hiding?
What's wearing you down?
Guilt? Confusion?
You're detached.
So cold. So unaware.
Give me a clue to the mystery
A piece of the jigsaw
This isn't you.
Grant me the permission to decode
Unlock the puzzle
And to restore who you are.


© maria.who
(Comment below please)

I remember when Twitter was
what your heart felt like when falling in love

I remember Pinterest was when you put pushpins on
the map hanging on the wall for where you planed to travel

I remember back when the only Facebook
was Mom's photo album

I remember when Tumblr was
rolling down the hill for fun as a child

I remember when Gay used to mean you were happy
And a Joint was a bad place to be

When I Hooked Up it was usually my stereo
All these newfangled meanings are so confusing to me

Or when Bad really meant Bad
And sick was what you did all over the floor

Now they both seem to mean a good thing
Can anyone tell me what for?

And don't even get me started on Thongs
That we wore on our feet to go to the beach

Now they're used to cover up what?
The rear with a piece of string?

I remember when we did not have to worry
about being politically correct

Or even have to worry about
who we might offend back

I remember back then
we were free to speak our minds

And not have to worry about how
everything would be perceived by society as a whole

I sure do miss back then
But at least I still remember when...

Children are dying...
I'm kicking back, with nothing to complain about, yet complaining.
While *children are dying
I'm dancing
to my favourite song with my pals and sisters.

While they bleed because of the blisters
caused by the wood of their broken homes.
Unheard screams and groans
Getting ***** by strange misters.
Bombs and grenades fall like raindrops from the sky

BOOM BOOM BOOM! The soundtrack of their lives
An endless lullaby
And they cry
and cry.
But I can't hear them,
for the music in my room is too loud.


                                    Children are dying*.

you hide behind your
painted lips of dahlia
and charcoaled eyes

thinking cheap concealer
can enshroud the
burning thoughts
that churn in your mind