Poems

Verbal abuse when they torment you by words,
Physical abuse is when you mind blanks out and blurs,
Psychological abuse this causes actions like mental anguish,
Child abuse when kids our age, younger and older we must banish,
Everyone who’s affected turns either black or blue ,
Please help out, there’s loads of clues

I walk on a road
of isolation.
It felt like I was cooked
alive. The time ticks
as I rot.

Sweat dripping in a pool
colliding with the stream
of tears.
A waterfall running
like a marathon.

But the second it spills…
it’s steam.
All I see is heat.
But from what?

I look up to my eyes
meeting with the devil.
I look away with agony.
The Sun’s ray leaves
A brief burning cessation
on the flowers in my eyes.

I go on and on
with my endless journey.
I sing for help as I melt.
I curse the Sun
for its explosions
and fire that creates
a beast bringing its anger
down on humans.
I stop in mid-track.
The small wind whines
weakly.

Anger. What if the Sun
is just angry
at us humans?
What for?

What if it’s angry
because of our criticism?
The Sun gives light.
Helps crops grow.
Gives vitamins
to keep healthy.

What do we give back?
Nothing but complaints.
“It’s too hot.”
All of our judgment
turned the Sun into
a demon, the devil.

The Sun does not blind.
Our selfish need
of satisfaction blinds.
We’ve been caught
in a diversion.
Not seeing the rotting
bird trapped in its cage.

I stand there realising
our mistakes.
We say we curse
the Sun.
I fall on my knees.
Then on my stomach.
I fall in a hole of darkness.

The Sun is the one that curses.

My sister is so pretty,
even though she’s not a star in the city,
she is a star in my eyes
but may also tell cheeky lies.
I love my sister,
she does not need a Mister,
she is my young beautiful smart sister
We have memories like gymnastics
when I twist her.
She has been through loads,
even when she wants to make me explode.
Check ups, checkups
everyday after this we do ballet.
Guess what?
I love my sister a lot.

Some are small,
some you can find on your wall,
some are scary
some are hairy
some eat leaves.
There are some
who are people’s pet peeves.
Some have eight legs,
some lay eggs.
Can you ever guess, it’s insects
To make them happy, eat some cress.

Suicide,
everything builds up on your mind.
You can’t live any more,
you feel like no one cares
so you go to the store.
You grab, of course, the sharpest thing there,
you don’t know what you’re doing
that’s when you stare.
Stare at your reflection
in the shiny metal blade,
and think about your family,
then you stayed.