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my life , my clothes
my love , my breads
my love life , my everyday living !

my all children , my life
my purpose , my love
my all purpose , my shortage

my everyday living , my challenges
my shortage , my strength
my clothes and my breads , my poems and my stories !

on the spot decision of mine weakens my strength to face my challenges
but there was this spot that i do not own
perhaps i could possess and make my children live their lives worthwhile !
i won my son and daughter !
they can now own their spots in my sufferings yet grow old in their respective successful career !
Today is the day of your birth, the one they say Saturn returns.

Flying in a galaxy above this earth, you look over us, we forever yearn.

🌙

Our minds switched on, constant supply. As each year goes by we grow & evolve.

Forever young you will be, memories of you do not dissolve.

🌙

As we age
we can’t help but wonder
what if life were different?

This is not reality. Although, isn’t it magnificent to be able to dream?

🌙
20.10.2020
Zane Smith Sep 16
are pushed.
Voices
ignored.
Tones
raised.
Feelings
on the floor.
So easily you were able to leave me,
You come back and think I'll set you free!?

I thought we would be sisters forever,
But it's clear you don't want to live together.

You told me that you love me and you'll stay,
But you turn around and tried to run away.
Jo Jul 13
you are so precious  
your smile and laugh are infectious
you truly are my little sunshine

yet you wish you were dead?
you wish you no longer existed?

don't you know how much it pains me to hear that?

you think you need me?
baby, i need YOU
i can't even imagine a world without you

please don't leave
i promise, it can't rain forever

at the end of the day
you are my little sunshine, remember?
Bunk beds are fun

and dandy.

When hiding from chores

they are ever so handy.

But not so much

when my kid brother

falls asleep on top with

a bag full of candy.
My fingers are shaking—
is it dehydration or weariness?
Is it the weight of the world and my brother
saying, “Why didn’t you eat sooner?
What didn’t you go to sleep earlier?
Take care of yourself more.”
He’s just looking out for me.
Chelsea May 31
I never really hated it

In fact, my first conscious thought of it
Was that

It was kinder to me
Than some of my peers

Not in the way
I would learn that to be
true

Just that
Yes, I had a pimple
or two

But for the most part
My skin stayed kind to me
Stayed smooth

My skin was different though
From my sister's skin
Who was alabaster pale

I thought she was so beautiful
With her snow white skin
and ice blue eyes

And, my God I was so jealous
Of what seemed to be her win
In the genetic lottery

But still
I always felt... something important
About my place in the sun

Her skin burned
When mine bronzed
Her blue eyes squinted
When my brown eyes opened

I understand the consequences of conventional beauty

I'm glad that I can simmer and see

She's always hated the beach
And I've always been pulled
To the sea

Because she is so beautiful
With her ivory skin and sky blue eyes

But I never feel more alive
Sun-soaked and covered in sand
Long, sun-bleached hair
Dried curly with salt

Free
Free
Free

Me.
The news.
It hit each brother hard.
I received it last.
I was caught off-guard, by the invitation to the church yard.
This was to be the first.
For some this would be the worst.
I felt submersed, as if I’d dove headfirst and now immersed in the tears that burst from my father’s eyes and did not disperse.

Family arrived.
Gradually at first,
Then all at once,
Our garden was filled with cousins, uncles, aunts.
Some the brothers knew, others they met.
As each one told them it’s okay to be upset.
But none of the brothers’ eyes were wet.
Not yet.

The black cars arrived.
And they all piled in. We seemed to talk about everything.
Except about him.
We got to the place.
Friends had come, so them, we embraced.
Then filled with grace,
One brother turned and tripped on his shoelace.

The brothers laughed
But there was no malice in it.
Just a moment of joy in all of this.

It was lighter than expected.
The weight shared between 6.
The brothers, their father, and his sis.

Two generations,
Carried in a third.
As the congregation stood,
With their cries unheard.
The ceremony started,
Hymns were sung.
The four brothers, right at the front.

Their father rose with a wobble,
To speak his piece.
He looked small to the boys,
But he never looked weak.
Following him,
One of the brothers shall speak.

I tapped my pocket,
Checking it was there,
Knowing too that my brothers had spares.

I stood.

I took the steps towards the podium.

I stood.
Ready to begin.

Ready to speak for my brothers
and say goodbye to him.
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