Sine Pari Poet

Wanting the want

awaiting glue

fixing nothing

to be fixed.

Broken never Broken

stolen losing focus

pressed upon me:

The Past Everlasting

saline blasting

hearts smashing

mine from behind,

breaking knives

inside my insides

torn intestines

splitting jagged veins

blood stains:

what happened

back there,

that library of pain

walled before

I could read;

locked before

I was able to see

reality

of which there Is

One.  Locked bleeding.

reality of which

there is none.

Walls stained scarlet-red

I remember

inside always December

dead without buds

dying without love

a life left behind,

my youth not mine.

Now they smile at me,

“disabled”

I am–

–to them

my blood they are

by blood they bled

I bleed their blood.

Should’ve been a son

I’d have seen the Sun.

Ayesha Gill, Copyright 2012

I am the fire in your soul

I am the self you can’t control

I am the violence in your brain

I am the low you must sustain

I am the dancer on your wood

I am the know

You think you should

My mind and body tear your soul

I am the self you can’t control

I am the sprinter in your blood

I am reality undone.

“I am the colors; I’m the leaves

I am the roots beneath the trees

I am the protestor of war

I am the light upon your door.”

I am the “stain” believed “insane”

I am the mended, hate-fueled vein

I am the child inside, alive

I am the truth behind your lies

I am the self you can control

I am the highway of the past

I am a rustling blade of grass

I am the half-filled water glass

I am the needle in the trash.

Ayesha R. Gill, Copyright 2011

This work may not be copied or reproduced in any manner without written permission from Ayesha R. Gill.