Worries swarm about my mind
Like angry bees about a hive

Buzzing, hungry for fury
My heart jitters in doubt

History revives its might
resilient it becomes. Resilient.

she holds my hand in her palm
cradling it gently
as she cleans
the wounds she reopened
again
on my calloused paper skin.
The giver birth
and
the harbinger of my death,
embraces me in crocodile tears.
"Who is she?" I am asked
and in a cracked voice bandaged with promises,
I answer;
"she is my mother."

remedies is not only for something we can't pass
remedies is for everything that has broken
or just to re-new something
-
she learns something from her life, everyday
but she never had a chance to write those down

it's not a scam when she said her favorite things to do are reading & writing or writing & reading
reading a poem or her self-diary
writing a poem or a self-diary
she doesn't know if is a gifts
or just a hobby
because everytime she finished wrote all her poems, she re-read it, and she thought all eyes those read her words can write it too (with their own version(s))

in this, not-so, new day(s)
herself will embarks to write all the tales where she's involved in

as long as she living her life
this era is the lowest point in her life
she doesn't know if it actually is, or it's just she made it all low

she can't even say a word to herself
she can't even write what's in her head
she can't even tell anyone when she really needs a person to talk
all are just mixed up in her little head


she doesn't know if it is something like "manifesting" or what
all she knows that she can't figure it out yet
is it something related to science? like human mind?
is it something related to religions? like human relations with The Creator?
but one from many answers for the solutions (based on her own researches) is self-improvement
she is pretty sure that is something wrong inside herself
something to be fixed
something that needs remedy
but her body & mind are not so sure what is that (or what are those)
her body & mind are still figuring out

it's not finished yet
it is still figuring how it needs to be stopped
it is still progressing
'it' is this story, her story, my story
..

I see my timeline on this site:

2014
From my older brother's diagnosis
to the death of my grandmother

2015
Falling in love with you
My brother disappearing

2017
To the breaking of trust in exchange of fluids
Never receiving what the law calls justice

2018
Realizing you were never my first love
Merely my first attachment

But I never wrote about finding my brother
dead
in the woods near the main road
white bones in a tent
not knowing who it was
only realizing after the police left my mother crying
for him
dying there alone in the woods so close to home

I cry for him
dying there alone.
Hidden by the wilderness
rotting away inside the plastic tarp.

I cried for him
and wrote for you.
This timeline is my reminder
holding my guilty conscience accountable.

why we hurt and heal
in silence
like it's a must step
we all go through
to proof we are humans

I learned how to wake up without his voice,
Somewhere deep down , I still doubt my choice.  
I am trying to Heal myself, but at great cost,
no matter where ever I go, I will always be  lost.