Poetry

Walk up to the table

Tell them my name

They look at me

They look at my opponent

"Red" they tell me

Walk to the center of the mat

Put on the red anklet

Turn to my coach

"Lets get a win" he says

He is heartless, they say.

But why did he give the little girl

A piece of his meager bread?

He is calculating, they say.

But why does he not take advantage 

What would it be like

to see the rainbow?

To stand beneath it,

soak in the colorful

mistakes it bleeds.

What would it be like,

to have someone else

i blink at the screen.
after all the prompts ive ever read, 
this may be the most outrageous.

i am said to be a writer.
it is true that i think too much
and write too little

I came from mountains.
From the memory of تبدیل,
Of change,
Regurgitated from the depths of what may have been.

and when the sun lingers on the snow

and the moon instates itself over the dark horizon;

when the trees reach, grasping; when the wind curls in on itself, pleading 

Once upon a lonely time 

The moon fell in love with the sun 

And so you see they were lovers 

Once when they were young 

I just want to do something significant.  I 

want to write something that matters, something 

that makes a change for the good, but 

I also want to just be me: I want to dream 

I've gotten pretty good

At pretending

Some nights

I fall asleep

And wake up with 

Red puffy eyes

But I go to school

With a smile on my face

And hope no one notices

That a bit of light

I’m tired of being told

Not all men

There's still some them

That’s enough of them

I’ve had a enough of them

If a dog bites you

Everybody has a thing

Something they're good at

And something they love

It's their thing

Sometimes its sports

Or arts

Or humor

Sometimes it's just being

Loved

I don't have a thing

His breath on my skin, soft like lily petals. A voice, deep and reverberating like that of a bass guitar, strums a tune to the beat of my heart. Lips pressed against my neck, love spins through my spine. Hands around me, I go limp, I fall.