after the battle
the blood was washed away with the rain
the sacrifices were forgotten
their lives became history
and history became a legend
and the legends were forgotten

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

he asked her what her wish is
he'll fulfill it
she said just once
once in my life I want to walk out and not be laughed at
live and not wanna die
so, please
make me the way they  want me to be

he said
she wants you to be skinny
he wants you to be fat
so what do you want to be