(2014)
He says I could never Get away with murder For I leave Pieces of me everywhere
I find richness In the mixture In what others disdain Young people lost Between two cultures
Mis manchas de Bambi Manchas blancas Cubren mi cuerpo La gente se queda mirando Pero no les da asco
Have you ever felt A hole inside of you Something dead inside Where your heart Is supposed to be?
How can I write how I feel When what I feel is nothing? How can I tell you what I need, What is wrong? When what is wrong
Don’t talk down to me I am not a child! Even children Deserve respect
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
Why can’t I choose to be somewhere in the middle? Surrounded by extremes Measure everything With a grain of salt
Some I like to share Fresh out of the oven Don’t let it get cold That’s why I wrote it Emotions in that moment
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
The ugliest shade Of green We envy The car The job
Pretty and dainty Rich girl feet Meant to be Beside the pool They don’t like to work
If food is poetry The flavors The smells Singing in harmony Is poetry food?
Are you ever tired Of just being you? Did you ever Want to be Someone new?
If I could paint a man Eyes so dark they shine Brooding and stormy Til the smile breaks through If I could paint a man
