People do not show their real races
They hide them just behind the mask
With a mischievous  smile in faces
Different obnoxious questions they ask

By portraying a friend the stab in back
This is how their intentions are known
Their heart and faces are equally black
Habitually they are bad and are prone

Satan is their master to tell and guide
How they can promote their ***** tricks
They use all under hand methods to ride
Time is ready to fix for fault in genetics

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

If you were my little girl
I'd show you how to be loved so good
He doesn't treat you right
He won't ever love you like I could.
I know you're young little girl
Only 16 years old
With the scars on your wrist and deeper wounds on your soul.
He made you grow up too fast, ****** up your past
Left just as soon as you needed him
But now you're mine little girl
Take my hand let me into your world
I'll fill your void of daddy issues

You fell in love with the way
the leaves fell from the tree's.
The way they were all beautiful,
as soon as they were leaf free.
They were bare and left vulnerable,
their branches like stiff fingers.
Looking as if trying to grasp,
their old life before winter.
You always loved the broken.
Or the ones that needed to be cared for.
And what you never seemed to have realized
was that those tree's were neither.
They didn't need your help.
For they already had a life goal.
To come back after winter,
So much stronger than before.
When you saw this you were disappointed.
And that's when I finally got it.
All this time it wasn't about fixing others,
But about stitching your own split.
You spent so long looking in others,
for a brokenness like yours.
Thinking that if you helped them fix it,
then maybe you could wipe your own tears.
But, darling, I'm here to tell you,
that your approach is all wrong.
You are actually like those bare trees.
For you've been whole all along.

I was never trying to fix you,

I had only tried to fix the road before you.


-HIY

I don't need you to fix me.
I don't need you to pick up my pieces.
I don't want you to.
I do not want you to.
I never asked you to.

My heart didn't break
When you texted me "we're through."
It broke too, too terribly long ago.

You'd push away and longingly stare
At those with a nobody
pretending to be someone.

You closed off your life
And blamed me for respecting you
For giving you space.

But now, your grindstone letters
Which have crushed me for so long
Merely ground the flour
That Will, one day, bake a beautiful cake.

I wait for the day,
That may never come,
When I can say

Stronger now
Better now
Repaired now
Myself now.

But like the dust in the mill,
You've stained the flour, tainted the cake.
You got what you wanted, but still you take,
With the impunity of the grindstone, crushing the flour.

And that is why the flour never wears on the grindstone.