I never meant for anyone to confuse falling in love with going insane, I picked you the same way I pick flowers
I have aches in my bones that probably aren’t worth touching but you make sure you feel the sections of me that seem to have been abandoned
I know im capable of scaring you away
and I cant promise you that you’re right about me.
Someone once told me to never to make a home out of someone who doesn’t love me .
But I am a refugee and at night i seek shelter, and the morning came, not knowing if it would come again.
I planted scriptures in your palms that no one else could ever understand. By the afternoon i get home sick, and as a child I remember looking at a hearse thinking it was a limo, until I asked where it was going.
I was told that God’s will is done,
thinking forgiveness is something you can buy with Mohammad’s grace.
When you melted the desert, the sand becomes a mirror. I cant live in my body all the time, it feels too much. I remember staring at my own body on the floor.
When I cut my veins, my doctor asked if I did it for attention. My body is a temple where I have burned so many scriptures and my mind get turbulent.
I was once told a story of a shaman who woke every single morning of his life crying for all the worlds sorrow. Another war started and there wasnt a poem inside of me that wasnt crying or pounding with the sound of a thousand bombs screaming, to where children lay on the ground dying. I didnt wanna speak, or sleep because I didnt want to wake to another morning of mourning. And this life is not something to go about so casually. I seen depths of depression, and pieces of Heaven. I wish I could right wrongs instead of poems.