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 A Time for Change by Alim Next to the Gods by Pedro R. Briones Untitled Mom and the Mideast by Sarah D [Industry] by Elsa Kim submit a poem for next month's edition go to current edition  |
Untitled who am I? who am I? sitting on the white porcelain tombstone that white shiny porcelain that makes me want to cry I'm afraid to find my wings afraid to fly cause who the fuck am I? to be afraid of where I stand feet sinking slowly in the sand going down below the surface getting nervous limbs are shaking my body's quaking I'm sinking so fast this stability wonıt last I have nothing left to grasp but the faith in my future the love in our circles the hope that where I'm going isn't where I'm stuck in the back of my own head hiding in bed fuck. who the hell am I? to cry when there are streets littered to the beat of every crack piper who's prancing every club goer who's dancing I got it on easy street amongst the sleet I got the rain amongst the shower I'm the drain I got this fuckin little town and these fuckin little people runnin to their steeple for the reassurance they can't find in the back of their mind I guess it's my time cause yeah Iım sick of this white and I'm sick of this black I'm speakin my voice and there's no turning back is where I want to be really me? am I lyin am I tryin to hard to fit in the image I desire follow people I admire inquire all the questions in my head let them be said let them be me let you all see who I can be and no it's not a front or a mask or some make-up on my face I'm not a disgrace I can't slow down in this race if I'm meant to be first place that that is where I'm headed cause it's not hiding anymore I'm not stayin on the floor I've hit the ceiling I'm reeling on this feeling flying so high where we all touch the sky forget where we lie down on Earth from our birth to our death there's always something left to erupt from our veins without pains it's called pride it's called confidence it's called love and independence it's fucking called freedom from the limits of who we are or the fright of how far we can go if we know that they only want to grow is to let yourself show the face behind the curtain where every one of us is hurtin cause your pain is no greater than mine and my pain is no greater than yours we're both behind doors with no lock, but a key to set ourselves free yeah, through poetry or any other way to express these feelings in our chests cause one they're all out there's really no doubt they're come pourin like a storm where every limit will be torn down to the beginning where I'm spinning and we're winning cause it's time.. to be free. |
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