We dance in the ashes like
Literary scavengers.
In the ruins and after rages
We draw the shreds of words and pages
Around our naked bodies like Blankets,
A quilt of the quintessential struggle
Which all people suffer

sometimes the walls
peel down    
in tears and metal
as the floodgates
               open wide
as the soul is bared,
raw,
              exposed
softly humming
its release of pride
heartbeats strong
head up high
queenly stance
bearing storms
ready for the battle
taking form
yet holding on tight
to solace's reins
praying to heaven
for grace in the strain
for soon the cry
                  to action
will fall upon this
           tender land
all that exists
washed away in
        a whirlwind
of sand    
in the distance
a lightflare
a whipping up of womb
a time for victory's place
in this tempest monsoon
and within my skin
in the flight of
               my freeze  
my pain opens up
and allows
me
          to
               breathe

The other day I showed my mom my poems
"Why do you always write sad poems? Write happy." She says
I just nodded, but I couldn't tell her my code of secrecy.
I write so I can let all the pain go
The pain of yesterday
and the reason that was was that I didn't have anybody when I moved
Everybody was occupied
And on my first day of school, I ruined everything
my words were spoken in clumps
and my pen was my only companion
So I wrote
wrote like the ink was my blood and paper my skin
and poetry accepted my request of being a friend
now my poems act as a mentor and a tutor
I can't give up writing sad poems
because if I do,
I'll lose yesterday