Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

The L word

When I look at my mum I see pain, I see selfish, I see unknown I see persistance with the slight chance of letting this all go one day

The way this world works is that you’re always being tested by high power, n everyday challenges that have the word burden in every achievement

When I look at my dad I see pain, I see selfish, I see unknown I see the way he envisioned our lives nothing this family now, something like what isn’t always a reality the good life, the happily ever after with a few challenges to marinate

In this lifetime we can only hope for the best of what we have created together, putting in place security for them is the way we know how to keep our loved ones close

When I look at my sister I see progression, I see so much love, nurture n care in her eyes, so much beauty in her eyes, when she puts others first she forgets to put herself before any emotion bewailed her, she is courage in so many challenges

When you practice so intimate for yourself its the most freedom you’ll ever receive, when you reach that content contrast of both selfless n self-love its so much more than any narrative can really capture

When I look at my sister I see will, I see compassion, I see burning confidence enough to fool even the closest of love, she’s so much hero it’ll bring you to tears how much good she has done

Hero’s don’t know how much they have saved, I guess that’s the irony, when they do so much for the greater good for those they love, beam this compassion so bright it’ll bring them to tears

When I think about my brother I see passive, I see observing too often, I see outspoken narrative loud enough to deafen, don’t know how much he observes, when we speak of events unheard of he goes silent n dismisses, what do you do when you don’t know what you’ve been oppressing

This has become the norm, very soon we will all become passive to the occurence of our own oppressions berried so deep we don’t even know when it’ll show its teeth, too clear for us to understand, fast forward to now, we’ve become passive to the occurence of our own oppression under this roof 

When I think about myself I see lonely, I see yearning, I see practice what you preach, I write so much of what I feel on paper for you to call it poetry when in reality this is the only way I know how to deal with my mental health, there isn’t much of an option when you don’t know 

So many thoughts come to visit this body, this body n state of mind are all I talk about as though this isn’t my body, as though there aren’t two souls roaming this body, there’s too much to say about what’s happening on the inside so I try to let it all out some how, the only way I know how, when I write these narratives from this body I am writing it from a second person point a view you may not understand although that’s okay

When I think about my family I see reckless, I see passive selfish love, I see uncertain, don’t know how long we can keep trying to fix something that is so broken, the damage there for all of us to see, its tiring, attempting to fix, just so someone can come n be reckless once again there’s only so many times you can keep fixing something that is so broken, we’re tired, we’re all tired from looking at all the broken pieces, some of them lost in all the action never to be redeemed, we don’t want them back because its enough, its enough now, we’re tired, we’ve given it all we can forgetting how long the damaged has stayed this broken for so long how do you fix something that just keeps braking so easily it exhausting watching love show you how ugly it looks over n over again, its tiring

When I think about the word love I see hopeless, I see unattainable, I see untrustworthy so much of what it doesn’t mean to over share with us

However, its there, its showing us too much of what its syllables mean n its tiring, its really just

Its tiring


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