I write this poem for my little sister
who still cries whenever an elderly
reminds her of her late grandmother
She cannot stop the tears long after the memories have assaulted her mind
It leaves her gasping for air and courage.

she knows that her loved ones
love her unconditionally
and she knows she love them back in the same way
even if they were in another realm that she would not enter,
not for a long time.

I write this poem for my baby brother
who has not seen reality for what it really is.
He still believes in the good in every person
and he does not understand the news
that tells him of deaths, murders and acts of terror

His friend's race or religion
or even their ****** orientation
don't matter to him as long as they are
funny, nice and friendly.
At the end of every arduous day,
it is the innocent spark in his eyes
that remind me that i was once naive about this world too.

I write this poem in the hopes that when they grow up
to be an angsty teenager or a bubbly youth
their hearts would stay pure and open
and not cracked like all of us.
I hope no girls will break my brother's unguarded heart
I hope my sister would still walk this earth, seeing with rose-tinted glasses.

I write this poem for these children
who were just like us,
before we became yet another cynical adult.

I did it again
I degraded myself
I let myself slip away
I let myself go

The demon took over me
Its laughing at me now
Im pathetic, im young
I fall so easily into traps i build for myself

Clueless
Naive
Lost

I have became the monster that was hidden within me

Boneless city
How did I never see you waver in my youth?
Ignorant of the tilt and the blows dealt on day-to-day walks
Stepping into bruises, slamming into ****** grit

Boneless street
You bring my head all the closer to the ground
All the further from the clouds
From all your round about; circular, ocean mouth
Shark-toothed belly ache
You find yourself insatiate

Quaint, the flesh of a dying city
The concrete simmer, the metallic retreat
The dust in lieu of blanket smog
No fractures with all struts gone
Only a once inflation, reduced flat
A stranger finding himself within
Wading liquid glass that shaves off chunks
Of everything, but the lack