You were blessed with a voice,
One of power and brilliance--
Yet you still choose to sit in the silence?

You were given words upon words
& stance upon stance--
Yet I see not one sign of resistance.

Oh my dear child,
What is holding you back?

Is it fear of shame? simple diffidence?

Your speech is ammunition--
Your lips capable of deliverance more
Powerful than the rifles of wars once long fought.
Yet you still choose to sit in the silence?

Oh my dear child,
If only you knew.

In a world plagued so greatly with censorship and shame,
You’ve been blessed to speak freely as you choose.
Under this flag of red, white, and blue,
The only regulator of your speech
(or lack thereof)
Is you.

Somewhere across the pond is another--
One just as bright and capable as you.
But alas their tender head is still deemed naive
& their gifts remain invariably at rest.
Even now will you sit in the silence?

Oh my dear child,
Now do you see?

Your ability to speak up is a privilege--
One of rarity and great worth.
So cherish this blessing &
Hold it close while you can.
Because who knows?
Just one policy and it could all be stripped free.

I am the glass in your window.
Your eye struggles to see me,
Not through me.
Unless I am cracked, soiled or ajar,
Spewing air that makes you uncomfortable.
You keep me for protection
And because my appearance makes
Your house look good, inviting.

Every once in a while,
Your eyes catch a glimpse of your reflection
In me.
So you cover me up,
Hide me from the light
And shield your eyes from seeing
Your true nature.

If I shatter under attack,
You scold me for being too fragile,
Sensitive to the hurt thrown at me.
If the sun shines too bright,
You blame me for being too transparent.
If the rain patters too loudly against me,
You chastise me for being too resonant.

But you knew what I was when you chose me,
Picked me to be here.
I couldn't hide even if I wanted to.

Over time,
The forces pulling me down
Leave me uneven.
Because though still I may seem,
Inside, I am just
A collection of millions of atoms
Constantly moving, vibrating, changing.

Care for me you could,
But instead you choose to ignore.
Eventually replacing me with something newer,
Shinier,
And more like the others.

the beep beep makes me hardly do sit up
with some skins about to crack
open the laptop. write half of it
and cry over uncompleted tasks
wearing the clothes that is all black
******* snow, extremely ****** me up
The class is draining me so I’m gonna skip it
Stuck in the mindset thats make me wanna go basking
In the bed where I can fully go dreaming

Despite outward appearances,
we are the same inside.
My heart beats like yours.
S1, S2. lub dub lub dub.
My lungs expand and collapse as yours,
My eyes observe yours watching me
And we are one.

Our lives, separate but concurrent
Have hardened our skin,
And softened our hearts,
Weathered our faces,
And strengthened our resolve.

I, the carer by title,
and you, the receiver by name,
the roles are readily reversed.
I am healed by your trust
And you by my ken

For we are commensal parasites--
Each requiring the other to live
While we sit, vulnerable,
Ready for the taking.

In my white coat,
And your white gown
We meet, as humans
To heal.

Since the age of 4,
I’ve wanted nothing more
Than to heal, and feel
Like I belong, therefore

I struggle and try
Pretend not to cry
While you laugh and laugh
Elated to simply standby.

I plead and seek your aid,
Instead of help, you evade
All I ask of you, is for you to do
The job for which you are paid.

My blunder I can’t ascertain
My fellows you guide time and again
Until, I yet see, that the error is me
Teaching me is from what you refrain.

But the real problem here,
Is that I can’t be clear,
Of this skin I was born in,
It doesn’t exist—a veneer.

On the ground I must lay,
Your knee crushing my airway,
While to me you tell, that all is swell,
My lips blue, no air left to say

That since I was 4,
I’ve wanted nothing more
Than to heal, and feel
Like I belong, therefore

Though scared I may seem,
And left no self-esteem
I continue to fight, for it is my right
To keep pursuing my dream.

I go over my bucket list one more time...
Study, then jog a bit, finish my drawing for my grandma, then the equation I couldn’t figure out, then write the essay-
Or wait-maybe I should read the guidelines one more time-
The due date, when is it again?
AH! Piano is more immediate, where’s my metronome?
Oh no! The books are all our of order again and I can’t find it, why don’t I reorganize them in the process-
My room looks like trash why don’t I-

“Honey, are you done with your homework yet?”

Um...






Well...

I bought a bag, today
it is rectangular
I had forgotten about
the time you made fun of them,
and as I checked out,
I remembered.

I cried.

she looks like you.

Silly,
how they see potential
where I never could.
everywhere I hope to be
on Earth,
but it is too late
my potential died
as well as me.

Silly, how tears
only fall down
your cheeks.