the martyr

The martyr

It is not a feeling you forget
You remember the tears you cried that you never let fall,
The look on their faces as they look at you
The wishes they share without meaning to
You will never let them see
You, or silence their pains or let them be.
You will never say no to one in need
Or scuttle away from some unspoken deed.
You will never leave them, controlling your stressful sigh,
Return with a treat, and never let their hope die.

I have heard their thoughts through their eyes, the window to their souls they try to keep shut.
I have tried, I have clung on
My reflections of them which they could never see
I have said, dears, if I have failed, if it be gone,
It be
And your lives from your unfinished search,
If I revealed too much and tried too hard,
Your thoughts may be free
Your wishes or subconscious, your conscious, your secrets, aches, and fears
If I hurt you and injured your inner self
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate
Though why do I reflect,
Reflect on what was never mine?
Since you don’t seems to care
Or rather, not anymore
You never did inside
But that too, I am afraid
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were explored, you had soul, you forgot
Is it just that you never wanted that knowledge to be heard or known

Believe me, I tried too hard
Believe me, I know you, more than I should, and I loved, I cared too much for you

Based off the poem “The Mother” by Gwendolyn Brooks


One overwhelms the rest
You must find a break
Something to tear that one apart.

Crush it
Let it flow out
Let it escape

Something to tear that one apart
Somehow more powerful
Yet equal in force

Crush it
Let it flow out
Let it escape

Yet equal in force
This something can tear
The one something apart

It is crushed
It can flow out
So there is a new overwhelm to replace the old.

Techy Wars

We live across a century of techy wars.
Most morning are filled with one bot or another;
Facebooks boasts ads catered to our wants,
Ads pouring our of various devices
Interrupted for but a moment to socialize with another.
I would text my friends on either device;
They would be struggling with the same indecisiveness.
Slowly, we try to release ourselves,
Untangle from the wires and apps and screens.
In the day we are reminded of those devices
As they call us, waiting impatiently to be used again
Their makers already hunting for new, almost unimagined ideas.
As the lights darken, the screens project brighter,
We would try to socialize, try to find each other.
Put down the device, grow away, grow apart
Untangling with talking, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We keep attempting despite
The ads and “new” technology, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go of the trap, to wake.

We live across a century of techy wars.

Based off of Muriel Rukeyser’s “Poem”