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.