Elle coule comme l'eau

Elle coule comme l'eau

Si calme,

Avec tant de charme,

Entre les murs de pierre

Elle coule et elle court

Avec un sourire de coquine,

Glissant entre frontières,

Entre les barbelés

Elle coule comme l'eau

Et personne ne la connaît,

Elle n'est qu'une gamine,

Cherchant un foyer

Elle coule et elle court

Des mains qui aime la torture,

Si lisse, si calme,

Il faut des ruptures.

Elle court et elle court,

Elle saute et elle coule,

En bleu et blanc,

Mais teintée en rouge ;

L'homme a créé des frontières pour tous,

Cette fille ne les connaît pas du tout,

Elle ne sait que la barbarie des bombes,

Et les mains déchirant sa famille ;

Elle ne rêve que d'échapper,

La prison d'une telle nationalité,

Et d'un avenir de paix,

Et donc elle coule -

Comme l'eau, comme une vague,

Vers la liberté, égalité et fraternité.

the bleeding

There is a wrench in me

Twisting and turning every gear

It hurts I scream

Each word falls like blood

On a piece of stray paper

There is a wrench in me

Working out every knot

And everytime I bleed

Your name comes out

It hurts I scream

The drops falls as blood

As bood is wont to fall

Oh this wrench in me

Grappling my soul from some core

I bleed and bleed

On the paper on the floor

Your name your name

Oh your name repeats endlessly

How long before the wounds heal

Am I to face an endless fear

Shame myself for what I endure

Harm myself as have all your deeds

Unveil all my tangles, fall dead, sleep

Fall dead and may be even then

Be haunted by those nights

Of touch that I never asked for

That I was too scared to protest

That I hope and pray no other girl

Goes through the pain of . This.

Oh but they do they do they do

And they die too.

Untitled #25 - people pleaser

From where does this come,

This intense self pressure to please?

To please every other person,

Who means well or just comes my way -

Why so much pressure to please?

Is it because I am human?

Or because I am female?

Or because both -

And my bones are supposed to 

Be flexible to needs,

Whether it is to push out another,

Or to let others push it in -

And my muscles are supposed to

Contract and relax as per

"What they say"

And I follow it, I believe it -

But why do I listen to it!

Is this my state of immanence?

Is this the only choice that

I know to choose?

Must I let my years of training

Of listening, of fearing failure,

Of fearing greatness,

Of unspoken obedience and 

Of unheard tantrums, dictate -

Must I let myself cry and pity (myself?)

Because I feel trapped in questions

That I am too scared to answer -

Because everyone "means well",

They come my way and "mean well",

And I am so trained to listen.

To obey.

To bend.

To break.

To fill all cracks with gold.

And now I do not know.

Who I am (¿am I?) anymore.