I wish I wish he'd
stop with the hitting'.
Whenever he's
present new
bruises start burning'.

I wish I wish she'd
know of my burden.
With monsters their
presence I
locked in a cavern.

I wish I wish they'd
hear me sighing.
Judgmental minds
present that
keeps me from trying.

And
I wish I wish you'd
see through this poem.
Acknowledge my
presence and
tell me I'm mistaken.

Because it's not.
_________________*
Alt­ernate ending: just for a laugh

I wish I wish you'd read through my poems.
Acknowledge my
presence and
perhaps,
leave me a comment.

Pride is a must, essential to guard

The Soul Within you claim your own.

Vanity, a replacement, an alter ego

To depend and rely prior

The True Self is known.

You are compelled to construct

a man made core to revolt

Around to contain your thoughts,

your feelings or else—

your heart shall rust.

Then living will no longer be

possible for you, are blinded.

You can't see, you cannot seek

yourself in your fear.

Confined and so you had to pretend

to put up a facade, a mask a tent.

Untaught of the fickle you must believe

in the dark, the unknown, mysterious

*Shadow.

Kiss me soundlessly.
Or **** me in your sleep.
I've drowned in your madness.    
And dived in too deep.          

Touch me lovingly.
Or thrill me with your lips.                
I've bathed in your venom.      
Darling',    
it no longer piques.

That it doesn't matter.
That was her reply.
You help she does not
desires.
You may just resign.

For this is her story.
Her story in disguise

The girl who races.
Born in may.
Her paper faces
on display.
Behind a thousand
closed doors.
Just like her broken
racked dolls.
Where she lies
paralyzed.

If you'd look closer
And maybe you'd see.
The girl who paces.
Born in may.
Her paper faces.
She leads astray.
And there she
caresses
her lovely array
of paper faces.
Her only defenses.
Shielding her from
the shades of grey.

Your eyes, your face, your
fingertips.
They were all my favourites.
Your lies, your gaze, your perfect
lips.
I love thee too.
And those words, you would
mumble
in my ears.
They make me shiver
with delight.

I like to trace along the
raised scars
on your back.
Where your wings were
brutally ripped.
They felt
rough and ugly.
But no
you're not.

Was it painful?
Was it not?
When you fell
from above
In that one place called
paradise.

Because I know it does.
When I did fall,
No not from Heaven love
it's Inferno and Hell.

It's hard.
I know.
It's a struggle,
with no end.
It's getting messier,
day by day.
But never forget
Our nationalities.
Our identities.
Who we are.
Who are we.
Because this is
Our place.
Our land.
Our home.
And we defend it.

My mom sleeps early.
She isn't a night owl.
She lives in the day.
And everything around when
the sky is bright.
the streets are loud.
She leaves the house at 9pm. sharp
And went off in her snores.

My dad stays up late.
Until twelve.
And when the last 60 seconds
ended the day.
He'd turn off the TV
"Has been a long day"
he'd say.
Yawn.
And he'd go to bed.

And me.
I'm no bubbly girl.
or pretty.
cheesy blondy.
Maybe just a good nerd.
But I know the night.
And I love it.
1a.m. is free.
My private afternoon.
with cookies and tea.
And I'd turn on the lights.
Walk with my ankles light
off the ground.

Turtle hasn't sleep.
no he's like me!
He'd wiggle his tail and
swim
towards my face.
As if to say,
"heya buddie"
he should have eaten but
he knows.
he knows.
I feed my Turtle at
one
in the morning.
And he never says no.