kid

1.  born 

They left us poor and defeated, they gave us

no food and water for so many months we stopped 

counting. Our broken skins tagged along with us, stretched

plastic rag doll torn in parts, screaming loudly because the sand

blurred her nerve centers.

Little brat, getting in the way of every parent and every nervous

train-wrecker,

slab of concrete,

slow moving juggernaut.

Stupid kid, no one really cares about her,

she is the one that always gets thrown around,

left around in lonely buses clutching cold steel rails,

the driver keeps looking at her,

tired, wondering where to drop her, weird unwanted kid that

everyone chose to ignore.

Probably her parents were fighting about whose turn it was to

make dinner,

but you weren't really there, watching all of this, were you?

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2. loses, wins 

The food barely got to our stomachs before it started burning us

completely, small moments of inner rage accompanied with, raw,

rough mood swings of inner contemplation.

A whole vial of emotional turmoil gets thrown at us, and we gorge it

like we are clinging to a part of us that will go away very soon.

 

Is it hard to say goodbye to the person you used to be?

 

How can we be defeated in our own private wars of fighting,

when we have written our own scripts, at least that's what

we would like to think.

 

Improvising our own interior deteriorating mental conditions,

improvising on failure by calling it a success.

Winning the best awards everywhere and going home in the dark,

sad rain falling everywhere which doesn't complain.

 

I can hear the sounds of where you break inside.

 

I can see you stretched like a rag doll.

 

I can feel myself holding on to you for those tiny last seconds

before we both let go.

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3. leaves

Sunday morning dawn, feeling shivery in a closed room,

peering down into the first rays of sunlight and feeling so cold, so utterly cold, but still in place.

Still with body holding together, with folded hands catching warm breath from my mouth,

eyes adjusting to this false cosmos I have created for my own safety,

away from all the real evolving cosmoses.

 

Hands stretching out through the glass, waiting for the sun to rise and be strong, and then I will go to sleep.

 

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 4.  born

 

like a phoenix, she rises again.

collecting thoughts and experiences of previous lives,

she is serene, beautiful.

Figuring out what comes next

has to do with the most original thought ever.

Is it hard to ignore the tiny, stupid kid as much as

the others want you to? little girl.

The End

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