“As I Stand Here, Reflecting”

If you think you know me

Let me assure you—

You do not

You only know the projection

Of a role I like to play—

Someone I created to be some version,

Of a girl who might have been me

You think you know me

But have you had intimate conversation

With my soul?

Have you peeked inside my mind,

And unfurled the tapestry

Of my secrets?

You claim to know me

But I don’t even know me

Every now and then I get to see her

In my dreams—the girl I might actually be

And she is beautiful

She doesn’t know my world,

And so she is free of its restraints

Her home is between one dream and the next

And she speaks to me only when I’m ready to listen

Unlike me, she is not an illusion

She is the manifestation of who I hope to become

While I am shards of glass,

Still learning to piece myself together

She is the mirror: whole and far from broken

I look at her and I see my potential

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“Self”

Beneath the layers

You construct

Deep down where no one

Knows you, as you pretend

To know yourself,

In the fabric of

Your fabricated lies and

Your woven untruths—

There is a part of you

That you have long since

Buried, the forgotten remains

Of happier beginnings.

She crouches in a corner of

A fragmented mind, rocking

Back and forth, teetering

On the edge of something new.

She reaches for the outside world,

Where you have learned to hide

In plain sight. But you push

Her down, into the depths of a

Miserable non-existence.

She is the only one who will fight

You, but you have long since

Given up the fight

To Strike A Chord

To strike a chord in the heart strings of those who seek beauty and truth, to make an unsuspecting reader smile, to pave a new wave of thought, to connect with the masses, the unseen and unheard, to show the silent that they have a voice, to merge fantasy and reality in such a way that no distinctions can be made between them, to erase all boundaries holding back the imagination, to captivate a reader in such a way that he begins to think of himself as a character, to share experiences and experience my share of things, to record adventures and make unlikely characters heroes, and to start a conversation among those who otherwise would have never met…this is what I hope to accomplish through my writing.

“Tears”

These tears that fall from glassy eyes
This pain that she has kept inside
The way a heart can choose to bleed
Not out of want, but helpless need
This cold emotion seeping through
Has taught her well, has shown her truth
A fragile soul cannot endure
For that, she brands her soul as pure
This foreign lie, once held too true
This loss that brings her close to you
This hurt that cleaves her heart—in two

None but the truth of woven lies
Reveals your clever, sweet disguise
None but the hurt you choose to give
Assures her that her soul will live
This ship that sinks beneath her hands
As oceans drown out signs of land
Oceans of tears that she has cried
As you stand, hero, by her side
Not out of sadness! No, far from sad
For you would want the life she had
She cries these tears of smothered pain
Having slept so long in the rain
She shares the sorrows of the sky
Falls down no matter how hard she tries
She lives the truth encased in lies
And so she cries
She cries
She cries