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Hakiim Dec 2016
I can't see you through glass mirrors.
but I can't hear you in empty corridors.
Hakiim Dec 2016
i am a willow leaf,bound to the branches of a poisonous maple tree.
I am different from my neighbors.
I try to tell them about me,
but every time I reveal my tongue they spit toxins onto my flesh.
They are all I've ever known,
but they're the source of my pain.
They are the source of my hate.
Everything I value most,
they seek to destroy.
What must I do?
a poem abouty relationship with my family
Hakiim Dec 2016
it's hard,
my story is of love and of strength,
in which one i do not possess,
walls of water leak into my room as i wait to drown,
but my soul says be free,
it so badly wants to be,
but it be,
trapped.
In a web of lies,
a maze of confusion,
but a window of certainty.
Knowing what it wants,
but not knowing what it creates,
knowing that it is me,
but knowing it isn't what they want it to be.
My soul is at war with it's truth,
but in battle with it's reality.
What do I do?
I don't know how to explain this current struggle with involving my sexuality in my work
Hakiim Oct 2016
A boy sits alone blinking away falling rapid tears,
lipstick in hand,
eyes glazed in eternal pain.
She sits in shelter,
tears in hand,
dripping like lilies falling through shimmering thighs.
She thinks of him as his lips,
red as crimson,
eyes shimmering like the glitter she uses to hide her pain.
Their love broken by acid tongues and toxic systems,
they remain fragile.
Fearing the letters that were long created by no one.
Face painted for lights to see,
his tears have ruined this canvas.
He hides the rain deep within,
in order to maintain the desert his flesh must remain.
Bathed in strong fumes,
clothes engulfed in flames,
she feels sorrow.
The only light is the multicolored flames slowly dying in their eyes.
She kisses his lips in silence.
Lips of cherry and mango dipped in crimson paint,
oh how sweet.
False labels tattooed upon his face,
while rebellious truth seeps from his wounds.
Her skin rains as his soul dies.
He slips from life all because...
dictation,
creation,
labels,
mentality
Hakiim Aug 2016
HEAR ME,
the caged bird,
Maya once spoke of my ancestor,
but I have a new song,
my song is but a simple request,
it is of modern day,
it is of another time,
a time of difference,
a time of new,
I but have one request,
to mine own mother,
let go of the door to the cage you have me trapped within,
I know my way through the prison,
you just placed your knowledge upon my being,
you have seen your war as my fight,
you haven't taught yourself the strategy,
you have missed training and believed so as to me,
your being is not ready as you have believed upon mine,
but my being is not your being,
which is what you fail to comprehend,
my wings are of steel,
this beak has been sharpened,
my talons are ready for war,
set me free

— The End —