Poetry

It's too late to be awake.

Devastation crawls in the wake

of everything.

My eyes are burning

physically, actually

in no poetic manner

my eyes are burning with 

Today felt the same as yesterday  
Nothing changed 
But there was a silence 
That echoed in the voices 
I heard 

Today felt as if nothing changed 
I got up brushed my teeth 

My little sister 

Only 7 years old 

Innocent 

And yet strong willed 

She will grow up 

In this country 

With this president 

This person who calls himself 

When the sons come for me, do not say you are surprised,

For I have taken a vow of pain

Hand flat-placed, an oath, a promise

To fight with pen and soliloquy.

For what is anguish?

Meeting you is like spring water reflecting pear blossoms,  
Seeing you is like the chirping of cicadas accompanying the summer,  
Thinking of you is like a thousand arrows piercing my heart,  

Why did you have to hurt us?

Again?

Again?

‘Cause when I was young

there was a chance

a chance

to be free

a chance to see a woman be

something new and

different

Not quite,  
but close.  
A shade off,  
a soft blur,  

Almost there,  
but waiting,  
somewhere between  
yes and maybe. 

The world is a grey strip 

A strip which engulfs and protects our lives 

A strip which can only be viewed from far away for it is larger than we could ever imagine 

When I don’t have to

Lose the rights to my body

Is when we are equal.

Why are we not equal yet?

When I don’t have to

Be scared of walking alone

Is when we are equal

Look, even she's crying.

A girl pointed at me, before first period

Look, even she's crying

50% is not a large enough number

to give me any sort of hope. 

But somehow the feeling still mingles

in my mind. 

Your respect for me

has probably hit the ground,

And I'm running

Since when did the world mock me?

When was the moment that I walked down the street to a threat of being paved?

A threat on the path I have walked my whole life?