we tie ourselves with bloodied strings

and dance to the tune of heartbreak and heart-stop

we sing a song of broken lutes and broken bones

and eat of the scraps you leave behind

the world will see us as beautiful and perfect

so we will break ourselves trying to keep that image

oh, what beautiful things

we will grow up before we grow tall

and learn to hide from others and ourselves at an early age

we will dance on broken toes and bleeding feet

smothered in lace socks

we will be told how pretty we are

and we will smile as our hearts bleed

oh, what beautiful things

we grow up being harassed by males who are just "being boys"

tossed around one too many times, hairline fractures spindle across our porcelain faces 

we will speak with vocal chords that are rusting and torn

just to be heard

and when we are not perfect

we will be turned away

so we maintain that perfect on the outside

while the inside fades away

oh, what beautiful things

we have grown out 

and shrunk in

we have painted and pained

so that our faces

can be pleasing

we are perfect in every way, it seems

oh, what beautiful things

The colors of the rainbow:

i. red, blood red

stains the world

it does not let go

our blood does not run rainbow

just red, red, red

it covers many stones

ii. orange, rust orange

just as rust grows when the hinges are tired of holding up the door

we are tired of holding up on our own

the weight of many doors presses upon us

iii. yellow, urine yellow

the color when we have heart attacks

and lose control of our bladders

yet we are forced away from medical care

iv. green, puke green

people throw up when they are sick

emptying their stomachs of disease and germs

sometimes, more often than not,

we are perceived to be sick

v. blue, ocean blue

the kind of ocean

that sparkles in the sun

also, the kind of ocean

we are thrown into from cliffs

vi. purple, flower petal purple

the flowers that people get on a coffin

not in twelve states, not for us

These are the colors of the rainbow.

a black six year old, arrested for picking a flower

why are we silent

the sun burns through glaciers

why are we silent

sweatshop laborers die by the thousands

why are we silent

multiple girls are harassed every day

why are we silent

asian hate

why are we silent

homo/transphobia

why are we silent

black lives matter

why are we silent

billions of covid cases

why are we silent

one year old asian and family slashed in the face

why are we silent

nine year old muslim girl held down and pepper sprayed

why are we silent

the french government oppresses those who wear hijabs and does not allow them to practice much of their religion

why are we silent

i will not sit by and watch

this is my warning

i will not be silent

crumpled paper, the edges long gone

mind sloshing over with ideas but none of them coherent

none of them words to be understood

most time i am locked within my mind and the silver slivers of thoughts splatter on the page like spilled ink

but the rest of me stays inside because i cant get it out i cant put it in words

i dont have the key for the cage i have made for myself

and every time i try nothing comes out i cant picture my own thoughts, cant write them down because i cant catch them,

and it should be easy, easy to catch something that is behind bars but is it my thoughts or me behind bars i dont know anymore and i cant see i cant find the words to express it because there are none no words no words no words and im searching and searching but there are still no words no words im trapped in my own mind my own mind games my own mind plays me like a harp every time and my fingers are smudged and darkened by lead but wash the lead away and the darkness is still there consuming me becoming me and i write faster and faster and in english class  i wonder if just maybe, just maybe if that essay means nothing if im writing it with all the flowery words and the punctuation because i cant really find any other words if i am hiding in a shell of a person maybe i can cover it with those flower petal words because if i am a flower i do not have a stem and i am offering everything i have my petals my seeds my roots my pollen i have nothing left but my thoughts that still enslave me inside of this mind this prison and if i were to run i would find i have nowhere to go because every time i try to walk away my vision goes dark and i cannot see there is nothing holding me back yet everything keeping me in and i grasp for something to hold onto but i am down the rabbit hole and i am not as lucky as alice was because in real life in the real rabbit hole there arent any household appliances to grasp to slow the fall and even when i hit the ground no matter how bruised and bloodied i am the floor opens up and swallows me again and i cant yell for help or say "how curious" because i dont have the words there are no words no words  no words no words no words no words no words and the slightest noise that may escape my paling lips is not even a coherent thought just another drop in the river lethe another thing i wont ever remember and when i slam into the ground i am not as lucky as alice no i am on deaths doorstep i am pale and bruised and bloody and nobody helps because nobody hears because nobody hears my words because there are no words no words no words and there are still no words no words no words and i fall to the gound and i am not as lucky as alice and there are no drink me potions and the doors are too small but really there are no doors but they still remain as stubborn as ever and i am  not as lucky as alice my tears do not lift me to a backwards island they just rise higher and higher and i am holding my breath in a salty ocean and my head hits the ceiling and i go under just as the water disappears and drops you again on the ground and i get ready for more because this is all i know and there are no words no words no words no words no words and i suffocate in my thoughts because they cannot be realeased because there are no words no words no words

no words

dont go in the attic

the monster lives up there

he has snakes for fingers

and spiders in his hair

dont go in the basement

the witch lives down there

knitting with hanging rope

for the children in her lair

make sure to turn the light on

the dragon is over there

it eats children who are naughty

enter if you dare

my views growing up

were innocent and naive

now i see that there are no monsters

in my house

my attic, my basement, the rocking chair

no, the monsters live in the outside world

and there are monsters

everywhere

her flesh peels back to reveal muscle and bone

dark liquid drips from her bloodied lips

her skin is darkened by flecks of mud and soil

she is the truth

barren and grisly as she is

the amount of light she sheds

upon us is almost

benevolent

as if her sharp fangs 

are not primed

to sink into our unprotected flesh

at any moment

forcing knowledge into us

that we 

most likely

do not want to know

shoving the bitter liquid down our throats

forcing us to swallow

with her dirtied hands

choking us with the weight

of the truth

when i look at what i have lived through

there is an unmistakable sadness

over 2 million people dead worldwide

400 thousand of them in my country

i wish i could visit all of their graves

to tell them I'm sorry

i wish there were enough flowers and mini flags and time in the world

to lay down by their resting places

i have lived through discrimination

and chaos

and a global pandemic

and all i can do is write poems

only you all

will ever read

all i can do 

is try to be aware

of he

at his grandmother's sickbed

she

surrounded by anti-maskers

they

wondering if they will ever be fully accepted

and we, in the midst of cardboard cutouts at the SuperBowl

trying to see the bright side 

of something that has

too many sides 

to see

but we

that word bounces around in my head

we

are stronger

than he, she, and they

we

together

can make

our voices heard

for i have lived through hate and pain

but 

we

have lived through worse

when i've had a hard day

when my mind

gets the best of me

when i feel ugly and unworthy and unwanted

i look to the stars

and they tell me that i'm beautiful

why does that moment

only last a minute

i want to bottle up that self-confidence

self-love

and keep it forever

but instead 

i wait for the stars

because somehow

i can't seem

to tell myself 

that i'm worth it

that i'm good enough

it is a foreign

language

this so-called

self-love

i cannot learn to speak it

the words are caged

on the tip of my tongue

no app

can teach you these words

so i look to the stars

they tell me i'm loved

im bi

i told her

on our walk to school

she asked me what that was

and i patiently explained

assuring her about

3 times

that no

i dont have a crush on you

just because i can have a crush on girls

and we kept talking about it

i was so relieved it didn't change

our already marred

friendship

until we got closer to school

you dropped your voice to a whisper as people walked by

and in the smallest voice

i have ever heard you utter

you asked me

if we could stop talking about this

i assumed

that you were maybe uncomfortable

which i understood

until i looked around

we were on school grounds

with other people

and you looked down

but not before i saw

the embarrassment 

in your eyes

anti maskers

homo/bi/transphobes

racists

abelists

and us 

this is what war looks like

a battle of minds

snipers on the roofs

of our souls

BAM another Black person shot for walking down the street

BAM another of our LGBTQ brethren stoned for something we can't control

BAM another 400k people dead because some people think wearing a mask is stupid

BAM another tear from the eyes of the family of the person who died in a peaceful protest, doing nothing wrong

this is what war looks like

and if you are LGBT

or an ally

or Black

or Hispanic

or Jewish

or Japanese

or anti-racist

and so on

you are a soldier

we are the soldiers

we wear no uniforms

no protection

from guns

and rocks

and bigotry

and hatred

this is what war looks like

and BAM another person blows up our forces

and BAM another 

hundred of us fall

and BAM just because there's a bullet in my shoulder

does not mean I'm giving up

this is what war looks like

and I refuse to stop fighting

I will lay down my pencil

strip my hands from the keybord

if and when they surrender

and we can be one