I watched my father scrunch his eyebrows together
whenever my mother said something he didn't like,
his impatience seeping through his dark skin,
apparent in the way he turned his body away
as if he wanted to run from all this
but he's trapped now, trapped forever.
I listened as my mother told me she did not want to stay
and my brother and I are the only things anchoring her unto this godforsaken house
of peeling white paint and crumbling walls and endless shouts and burning words.
I watched them hold each other when things got tough
and I knew it wasn't because of love—
it was because they were the nearest things to each other.
At a very young age I knew love was something that dissolves,
a flower you water everyday,
a story you never stop writing,
And some people, they don't know,
that they have stopped watering,
and they're running out of ink, only on page 3.
Little girl me knew.
Big girl me continues to watch it unfold,
dead petals in their hair
and dark ink between their fingers—
dry

'Mid the discordant noises of the day I hear thee calling;
I stumble as I fare along Earth's way; keep me from falling.

Mine eyes are open but they cannot see for gloom of night:
I can no more than lift my heart to thee for inward light.

The wild and fiery passion of my youth consumes my soul;
In agony I turn to thee for truth and self-control.

For Passion and all the pleasures it can give will die the death;
But this of me eternally must live, thy borrowed breath.

'Mid the discordant noises of the day I hear thee calling;
I stumble as I fare along Earth's way; keep me from falling.

Did we meet by accident?
Or was it all a plan of God
Starting from the womb of your great-grandmother
And eighty-eight unnamed constellations before that

(rondeau redoublé)

This lived-in face has seen the years go by
at such a wild and unforgiving pace.
My powers are weak, though my aims may be high,
and troubles are all bound to leave their trace.

And while I always feel the need to brace
myself against life's storms, I know that I
can never win. Death always plays his ace.
This lived-in face has seen the years go by.

It's little help to know the rules apply
to every member of the human race.
Dark clouds are growing in my evening sky
at such a wild and unforgiving pace.

In this vast universe I have my place,
but can my thoughts outlast me when I die?
or speak to those in other time or space?
My powers are weak, though my aims may be high,

Yet while dark thoughts of gloom may multiply,
to let them win would be a sad disgrace,
though many things may make me want to cry,
and troubles are all bound to leave their trace.

Yes, my mortality I must embrace,
not waste my time in always asking why,
or fearing not to do things "just in case."
I'll dry those tears. There's no point to deny
this lived-in face.

I HAVE BEEN RADICALISED, I'M NOT SURPRISED
THAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, IT'S NOT YOUR LAND
THAT'S BEEN INVADED AND WHERE ******* PERVADED,
IN FACT, IF YOUR RELATIVES DIED - YOU MIGHT BE PERSUADED;
DOES YOUR BIBLE TEACH, 'AN EYE FOR AN EYE,
A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH? ' WHO IS TO SAY THR TRUTH?
MOST OF US DIE WHEN WE TRY, OTHERWISE WE'VE FAILED,
WHAT WAS I WORTH BEFORE WHEN SIGNIFICANCE HAD PALED;
LIFE IS NOTHING TO ME AS I UNDERSTAND DEATH,
YOU WILL NOT CHANGE MY MIND BEFORE MY LAST BREATH;
IT WAS TIME TO ARM AND VISIT THE NEW LOCATION,
ONE FINAL HEAVENWARDS LOOK WAS MY INVOCATION,
I SAID GOODBYE TO THE BOYS, THEY HAD NO WAY OF KNOWING,
IT WAS NOT POSSIBLE TO PERCEIVE WHERE I WAS REALLY GOING.

i talked to my Depression tonight
i begged it
to go away
it snickered, and said,
"but i am not done yet,
i need to stay"
and returned back
*******, i hit my head
go away...
go away

i see two sides of me
i know at this point
i am truly going crazy