don’t say sorry, I want to tell her

do what you like, I would say to her

you’re perfect, I'd confess to her

take all the time you want and never feel bad about it, never apologize for the way you exist, especially the way you do it, which is so breathtaking I feel I might fall through the floor because I am standing on clouds

is what I wish I could say to her

watching you adore the world is stunning enough for me to spend my whole life doing it
I could gaze at you gazing forever and never be satisfied that I had seen enough
don't regret all the seconds you spent simply looking, listening, and breathing in all the beauty you could find
I do the same, and it is the reason I look at you so often

yeah ive been out for like 3 years man

So I am a mutt
And this is my poem about having split identities
And not knowing who the **** I am
I am Chinese and Irish
Got them green eyes, but eat rice with every dish
Have the freckles, but my first language wasn't English

Back in high school, people called me white washed
But then,
Pointed and called me that Asian
People would sneer, "You aren't even real Chinese"
But there are so many things you all don't see
Like how my Tiger mom screams at home
About getting straight As
Till her shrills leave me frozen to the bone
And when I had a boyfriend she didn't approve of
She yanked my hair
And I cried it wasn't fair
She yelled, "oh I'll give the boys something to stare"
I watched as she cut all of it off
Strand by strand
Like a strong gust of wind blowing all the leaves off the branches till it was bare in winter
The following day at school, my excuse was I needed a new look, so this was her
And meals I don't even know how to translate into English are my comfort food
But I can down some fries and burgers when I'm with the dudes

I embrace both sides of what I am
But people categorize me into one, *******
With my Chinese family
They straight up tell you
You too skinny, too fat, so silly
They say my accent has gotten worse
The anger builds up of embarrassment and hurt
The race makes my face so red, it's like my head will soon burst
There's this underlying feeling of shame, that's the worst
Which side of me do I need to prioritize first?
I'm drowning between the ocean of two separate cultures, I'm submersed
English is the language I think in and I curse
There's so much more I can't even tell you within this verse

Oh the irony doesn't end there
My driving stereotypes are quite the scare
Cause I'm Chinese, automatically I **** at driving
But mixed with Irish, I'm also road raging
It's probably the worst combination
Of a stereotype from two different nations
Ha oh there's more
The drinking stereotype that's for sure
Irish side could down the whiskey much too quickly
But the Chinese typically are easily tipsy
This mix is kind of risky
One turns so incredibly red
And the other can get so drunk, you'd see two heads

I feel I am constantly at war
One side always wanting more

How can I explain to you
What is within me?
I am African
I am American
I am both
And I am neither
I am something
And I am nothing
And yet…I am everything.
But I cannot be like you
Trust me.
I’ve tried.
You say “Welcome back”
Like my roots are in this soil
But how can I explain to you?
Yes.
My body originated here.
But not my soul.
No.
My soul was born in the arms of Mama Africa
She is not the ancestor of my skin
But of my spirit
And my roots run deep in her red earth
Her drumbeat, my hear.
Yet here I am…
I look like you.
I sound like you.
But I am not like you.
And when I try to explain
What I’ve seen
And done
And known
And how I became
You feel as though I am big
And you are not.
But it isn’t true.
I am not bigger.
You are not smaller
We are just…different.
I contain a vastness
That is misunderstood
That vastness holds so much
Yet often feels so empty.
And I cannot be like you.
Trust me.
I’ve tried.
But when I do it feels like chains
Shackles of iron
I try to deepen my roots
For you.
But when I try
I can only seem to spread my wings
And I am sorry.
I am sorry that I cannot make my home in you.
I am sorry that I make you feel small.
I do not mean to.
I am sorry I cannot find the words to explain
What it is like
To feel as though your skin is too tight for your soul
To feel as though you are always
Nowhere and Everywhere
Nothing and Everything
No one and Everyone
Too much…and never enough
I am sorry.
But I am trying.
So when I try…
When I share with you these tangled feelings
When I crack open the door
To the whirlwind within
Do not ask me to shut it.
Please, do not ask me to hide away
Because you cannot relate to the chaos behind my eyes.
Don’t see the mess.
See me.
And love me.
For the mystery that I am.
To you.
And to myself.

I’m scared as f*ck
to want you.

But here
I am,

Still wanting you
anyway.

A perfect poem...
   Is it the one that's well written,
Or the one having a greater meaning.?
   Is it the one with perfect verses,
Or required a perfect rhyming?
   Is it the one that speaks to all,
Or the one having hidden mysteries?
   Is it the one that let you vent,
Or the one with you wouldn't deal?
   Is it the one that opens wounds,
Or the one that makes you heal?
    Is it the one that came out of a chaos,
Or the one describing the peace?
    Is it the one that told the tale of the chains,
Or the one giving you freedom wings?
    Is it the one about the Prince charming,
Or the one exercising the demons?
    Is it the one describing the vast beauty of the nature,
Or the one about havoc of disaster?
     Is it the one that makes you smile,
Or the one that bring tears in the eyes?
     Is it the one that's written with the ink,
Or the one that bled through it all?

I'll say perfect is overrated. ..
  A poem is what that smooths an ache within the soul you never knew existed.
Just being able to pen down the thoughts gives an immense joy that you can't buy anywhere in this world.
And being brave enough to put it out there to be judged and commented that itself is a perfect poetry!!.