Teenage

I am a little bee
that can barely see
when I look at the mirror I can’t see me
because I am a little bee

My mum was the first creature I saw
The first to hold me, to rock me gently
My baby-self stopped crying herself raw
And tried to touch the tenderness of her gaze

She watched with an earnest face
My attempts to squiggle a masterpiece on my textbooks
And when she scolded me with her burning gaze
It was painful, because her cutting words were laced with concern
I remember loving her fierce determination, her smile
I recall, when I cried to a cold, uncaring world
In her embrace, she swore; For me, she’d walk a million miles
And the world warmed with her words

She’s happy; Relaxed, and the worrying lines on her face disappear
When her fingers fly over the keys of the piano,
She loves to play the songs she hears
Loves to fill the room with joyous music
She loves her walks in the moonlight
Strolling across the neighborhood, under the dim-lit lamps
Loves hearing the chirping of insects at night

But when she returns, her quiet smile
Tells me that her overflowing jar of near-infinite love
Is all reserved for us

There is a screaming voice inside my head.
It’s getting louder, second by second.
it says I’m alive but not there,
visible, but not seen.

I ignore it a day or so. it only appears at school.
it came back, louder than ever.
My parents were saying that someone was working magic,
as they thought my food was disappearing.
They asked my friend if they’d seen me,
they only replied,
“The dead and the deadly.”

I realised the voice isn’t anyone other than my friend.
we weren’t talking for a while.
then she whispered…
“Now that you are being called the dead and the deadly,
it’s time for you to become it…”

I ran and ran, not looking back.
Then someone whispered. “Turn back…”

Every day I wake up,
I get ready for the day.
But why do I feel so tired?
I just woke up.
Sitting at the table, eating lunch.
Going back to sit on the couch.
Minding my own business.
Then she comes in and says:
“It’s best if you were overlooked.”
Those words hit like a knife.
Remembering how many times she told me,
All these hurtful words, stuck in my head.
I could forgive, but I can´t forget.
The damage she did.
Everything I seem to say is wrong.
Everything I wear is not designed for me.
Everything I do is judged and criticized.
I want to tell her how much it hurts.
I want to yell at her how much she broke me.
But I´m too scared to do that.
Too scared that she will hurt me even more.
So I keep quiet.
So I live in silence.
Yet there´s so much going on in my head.
My thoughts are wild and dark.
I sew my lips shut, so nothing will spill out.
I put on a mask, so they won´t suspect a thing.
Living with fear, living in pain.
I can feel myself fading away.
The tornado in my head is making me insane.
But I keep it all to me.
So no one will ever hear
My silent scream.

We rarely speak of the elephant in the room
And when we do, we may tell a morbid joke or two
The crowd laughs, to stifle the terror of their doom
All ignoring the tension which diligently stews

Even when fear latches us in its vice-like grip, blood running cold
Hubris doesn’t allow us to perceive it as a real, tangible threat
We’re Untouchable, Invincible, Invulnerable; or so we’re told
We abandon caution, which fear gifts us, and do things we’ll later regret

Big enough to keep us locked in our rooms, staring outside; intangible and vague
Yet close enough to see fallen people; relatives and friends; utterly terrifying and ominous
None of us wish to be consumed by an ever-worsening plague
Who knew living through history could be so horrendous?

In the young fields of the wild forest
The mountains breathed with silent sighs
The dew drops dripped like diamonds
Tingling in the silent air.

In that silent land of symphony
The trees seemed to speak
Their silent words echoed through
Sending a wave of harmony.

The flowers spread waves of hope
Blessing the forest
With blossomed smells
Drifting everything to sleep.

The air spread silent prophecies
Awaking the rusted minds
Giving solace to the lost souls
Coloring the blank minds

But now as I walk through,
The forest that was once a paradise
Is now a terrifying battlefield
The place where I once sought peace
Is now filled with fears and cries.

The forest that was once filled with blossomed smells
Is now scorching with smells of violence
The solace I once found there.
Has perished like dust.

Here I sit among a thousand dead victims,
Waiting for hope
All I can hear is a thousand cries,
Wailing for freedom.

A change is all Earth needs,
But who in this busy world has a moment to spare?
A moment to change?
A moment to refresh?

But I believe my words will not be heard
But hope still sparks around me
That someday, sometime, someone
Might have a moment to spare…
A moment to change.

Daddy,come home
I miss you
Why did you leave
I know you miss me too.
Daddy come home
Where did you go
Since the day you left
Mummy has been low

Stepped on the parquet floor
Watchful eyes tracking every fault
As their peering gazes bore
Into me; My steps came to a halt

A crowd clustered around
Eagerly waiting for me; the Other me
I opened my throat to make a sound
I wondered why it felt so horribly lonely

Stomach churning, I heaved inside
As they howled from the stands
I wanted to run; I wanted to hide
Instead I smiled and cheerily waved my hands

Although millions watched me
and my warm gaze and pretense of fun
I had the horrid feeling, you see
Of being seen by no one

I’ve seen language be wielded like a weapon
I’ve seen it in words; all edges and barbs
I saw it in songs of heartbreak; And empathy crushed my chest
Saw it in beautifully woven stories
Those are the ones which hurt the most
Each letter, a thorn; until all I could feel
Was prickling underneath my skin
Until all I could think about were cruel things
And my petty problems suddenly seemed insignificant

I’ve seen language be wielded like medicine
Words which make me cry in joy
As if a warm candle has been lit
In my chest
Happy endings; small smiles and rumbling laughter
Humorous jokes
Which make the world brighter; If only for a moment
Until the cruel worlds disappeared
And all I could feel was contentment and satisfaction

Unto the callow youth and the wise and old seeking rest,
But the innocent and pure of humble life’s best,
From the mindful gaze to the sharpest eye,
One sorrowful day we will see the mellow sky,
The blissful clouds and the sun gleaming butter yellow,
The fields of corn and wheat where the bull stands solemn and mellow,
That make the shy bird start and take wing into the brilliant sky,
The day we close our sorrowful eye.