Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And beg-BEG- for them to hurt me,
Pretend to love but actually hate me,
Romance me, only to ignore me-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And ask for their prayers,
Spill out my darkest confessions,
Grieve my past self to them-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And preach the importance of freedom,
Inform them of the world’s woes,
Bore them with politics-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And demand they save me,
Pause my loneliness before it turns foul,
Accompany me during my days-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And scream help, so the birds flee,
Becomes ever too powerful.

So powerful I recoil from human interactions,
Until I can perform the average conversation again.

I may look like a wretch,
But I can do sketch,
Want me to come by,
and make your life outstretched?

Don't worry, I don't bite.
I love people who are fond of aplite.

Honestly
I feel like an Empress boo.

Divine iterations
of existence, unique...
And I truly hope these
expressions
make a good impression on you,
I do
not always know how things
will turn out
Often times I find
myself
stalled; consumed with doubt
So if you could,
Be patient please.
Things are deeper than they seem.
There’s more to me than you can really see;
although what I share
is limited
to the confines of a square
Boxed In
is one thing I could never Be
And so world, here’s to me
And here’s to Being
Infinitely
Free.

Pretending--Preventing
A peek behind the curtain:
I've tightened the rope
I've split up the track
And hold steadfast the ends (no slack)
Spinning above, mid-air like some antisocial acrobat
I've learned the words
I've carved the face
To only read smile
While the rest seem to float
All show
No rope, though
that could be an act--as well--

c

I am a poet,
or I like to call myself one.
My heartaches and heartbreaks give life to empty pages;
I rarely compose from glorious days.
I’m inspired by the world, by people around me
but mostly by my pain.
I consider myself an introvert
for you will rarely hear me speak,
but on the other hand, I have much to say
just not with my lips
but with a pen.
I hide behind ink and paper
ready to write my feelings away.

I am the poetry that I write.