One day I turned around
I looked away
For a second
To reach for Mother’s hand

I heard a sound
And turned back ‘round
In a flash
Life; transformed

There I saw
Where stood before
Our family tree

Mother as roots;
I as the stem
And now; fruits

In a second
My youth forgotten
And maternal thoughts
My mind did fill

How so fast
Did this day come?
Once the stem
Now the roots
So quickly
Life transformed.

I think
as artists
we owe a lot to pain.

Put on
a robe of thorns
and write

about the nice weather outside
and that delicious burger
you had today.

Write about happiness
when you're in pain-
beauty.

reading sad poems
sad songs playing on repeat
with a frown on my face
that refuse to fade
a pain on my chest
tears that refuse to fall
what's this all about?!

You come and go as you please
told me that you missed me last week
then suddenly gone like you never exist
and come back with the words i never want to hear
"I think we're not meant to be" you said.
what's this all about?!

You still don't know the real me
things that I've always wanted you to see
but you never give me any chance to tell my story
you never asked
you never cared
you decided to end us instead
what's this all about?!

is this all my fault?
are you blaming me for all of this?
cause it's sounds like i'm the only one here to blame
sounds like i'm the one who refused to open up
but, do you realized that you're the one who shut me up?
then, what's this all about?

I am a born free.
From the shackles of
apartheid
Yet, I complain,
About experiences I’ve never had.
Am I truly
Born free ?

A truly great ~promotional item~war hero.
He grew our ~businesses~ country.
A true ~capitalist~ philanthropist in every sense of the world.
You’ve left a mark on our world.
You will be greatly missed.

There she was,
Angelic,
In her dress,
Light bouncing off her caramel skin.
Inviting.
THE Perfect Moment.
ruined,
by my fear of the future.

in the end i wish to be remembered...
maybe not by all but at least in my little corner of the internet.