Sometimes it feels like
I haven’t done anything right
That’s enough to care about
And somehow
That’s worse than
Doing everything wrong,
At least then,
it’s noticeable
Enough
To care about
And deep down I know it well
I shouldn’t fall back
into bad,
Bad habits
But I can never help it
And
It doesn’t matter anymore
which way I go
Downstream or uphill
I’ll follow life’s flow
And if I don’t end up
where I yearn to be
It doesn’t matter
‘Cause it wasn’t up to me

Wrapped in my warmest wool blanket,
coldness resides in my veins.
My body aches for your embrace,
to revel in warm memories.
It was just a one time mistake...
The ghost of your cologne,
lingering faintly above the detergent’s scent,
makes my nausea strangle with warning.
You don’t love me- otherwise your
scent wouldn’t be on her bed too.

—Betrayal is not a mistake; it's a choice that reveals character.

I am afraid that if I pluck every single bad part of me, then I won’t be me anymore.

Maybe that’s just who I am.

I am all the bad parts of me.

Are there levels to this?
Is there a hierarchy for morality?

In some way I think we all are just as equally messed up.
Simply that some are less immune to it.

Maybe I am everything wrong with me,
everything I have done,
hurt,
bruised,
is just a sliver of my true nature.

She stayed quiet & chained,                                                         ­                             
                                   ­                                                                 ­                    
too tired, too weak to
think                                                            ­                    
                                            ­                                                                 ­         
He knew that she would
stay                                                             ­                   
                                             ­                                                                 ­          
as he poured another
drink                                                            ­                  
                                              ­                                                                 ­       
She was so beaten
down,                                                            ­                                                
                ­                                                                 ­                                     
she didn't even disagree                                                         ­                   
                                                                ­                                              
While he was *******
around                                                           ­           
                                                     ­                                                             
she told people she was happy                                                            ­                                                                 ­                             
                                   ­                                                                 ­                
He took full advantage
of                                                               ­                       
                                         ­                                                                 ­            
a love he never
deserved                                                         ­                   
                                             ­                                                                  
  When would she call his
  bluff?                                                        ­                
                                                ­                                                              
  ­When would her voice be
  heard?                                                        ­                                    
                                                                ­                                            
  Would there ever come a
  day,                                                          ­                      
                                          ­                                                                 ­       
  that her pain would find a
way                                                             ­                                                                 ­
                                                                ­                                                 
 and her rage would blow him
  away?                                                         ­       
                                                         ­                                                           
No one would blink an
eye                                                              ­                
                                                                ­                                                  
but she would still probably
cry                                                              ­                    
                                                                ­                                              
While everyone was asking
why,                                                             ­                 
                                                                ­                                                  
she was not able to say good-
bye                                                              ­              
                                                  ­                                                                 ­ 
To the man who held her
down                                                             ­           
                                                                ­                                                    
so, he could keep her in
check,                                                           ­                     
                                           ­                                                                 ­            
face pushed into the
ground,                                                         ­                                                         
                                                                ­                                                
and kept his foot on her neck                                                             ­       
                                                                ­                                                    
  When would she break
  free,                                                         ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­                          
  be who she wanted to
  be                                                            ­                                            
                    ­                                                                 ­                             
  not a victim of
  brutality                                                     ­                                   
                             ­                                                                 ­                  
  Why would she dare to disagree?

I know you are impartial,
You do not take sides
Not with the oppressed,
Not with the oppressors.

You are a good human,
You do not interfere in the acts of others,
Even if they are murders
In the brightness of the day.

You are a good human being,
You do not speak of wars,
Of blood, of wounds,
Of cries, of deaths.

You wish only to spread love,
To cover your eyes,
To shield your ears,
To silence your tongue
Against the roar of evil.

But tonight, before you sleep,
Close your doors,
Shut your windows tight,
And whisper only to yourself.

Ask your heart, the one you hide,
Ask as the human you had promised to be
Everything happening around you,
Before your open eyes

The screams that break into your house,
The cries that stain your walls,
The blood that runs through your streets

Is it good, or is it bad?

If it is good,
Then sleep peacefully,
And know you are right.

If it is bad,
Then know —
You have been wrong.

Is it my fault
That I look at someone
And feel repulsed
By the way their
Body flows?
That I can’t look at anyone
And not rip
And pick apart
Every little flaw they have;
A crooked smile,
Lopsided eyes,
A tilted nose,
Hairy limbs,
Flaky skin,
Tilted lips,
An asymmetrical face,
A too-big forehead,
Puffy cheeks,
A bloated stomach,
Humongous thighs,
Giant arms,
A wide frame,
Bushy eyebrows,
Monkey ears,
Uneven feet,
Messed up hands,
A normality in a flawed creation
Yet it’s all that catches my eyes
When I look at
People in the lifts,
In the shops,
On the street,
In the corridors,
In a home,
In a room,
In the mirror.
“Wrong! Wrong!” My brain screams
In terror
It’s right, I suppose,
That monster in the reflection must be
The consequences of an
Error.