I was born of poetry
The daughter of Metaphor and Simile
God fashioned
Each valve, each vein, each artery
as a string in my fabric--poetic artistry.
Weaving through my body
leading to my heart
The da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum keeping steady meter
like a washing machine
The electricity of my heart.

I was weaned
on a diet of language and abstract art
"Hello mommy"
"Hello daddy"
"Mine"
I was no Albert Einstein, but
I was a master rhymer, an epic writer, a lyrical
fighter, a peculiar primer, a world lighter,
and i was only four years old
on my daddy's should--ers, I yelled
"Mademoiselle Rizel, Mademoiselle Rizel,
Mademoiselle Rizel"
He taught me more
He taught me that lies rhymes with cries
rhymes with my first goodbyes,
but there was nothing good about it.
There were " I want you backs" in gift form,
but they weren't worth my time

My mom gave me a cardboard box
and on its walls, I rhymed.
I spilled secrets
like, "Wait..Mommy, how do you spell
together?"
"You spell it like to get her"
I giggled at the thought.
I want my family to be together forever I
scribbled on its walls.
She took me to the library when I was six
She taught me this.
She taught me that loyalty is a slant rhyme for
responsibility,
but twice rhymes with wife
rhymes with sacrifice,
but never let life's ifs hold you back.
There were her feelings in book form that I
sought to follow.

"This is the right night to write"- age six
And every other night that follows
My toes curl when inspired
I aspire, I desire, I perspire.
I am a wanna-be poet
Gerund-ing my feelings
Splash! Splashing a homogeneous mixture of
ink, personification, and onomatopoeia on
paper
for the kids that need imagination,
emancipation,
Suffering from degradation and
discrimination
Searching for love, but only finding unrequited
infatuation
Poor literally, lyrically, and spiritually.
God,
"Your eyes saw my unformed body;
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book before one of them
came to be."
Psalms 139:16
I was born of poetry
The electricity of my heart
like a washing machine
The da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum keeping steady meter
leading to my heart
weaving through my body
as a string in my fabric--poetic artistry
Each valve, each vein, each artery
God fashioned
The daughter of Metaphor and Simile
I was born of poetry