hidden scars


siyabonga street Johannesburg, South Africa
United States
37° 5' 24.864" N, 95° 42' 46.4076" W

I’ve seen too many stars,
Seen too many eyes, advised too many minds,
Home is where the heart is but haven’t build that one as it’s hard to reach compassion from my lies.
Skies ain’t blue and it’s been cloudy for a while.
My time is you, because you’ve dominated the spaces of what’s left inside,
But I’m hoping this compromise
Will be the turning point to what Allah has for us,
Simple touches and forbidden hopes,
Brushes in eminent codes,
I flush this with nothing but
Arrogant consumptions,
And maybe just maybe,
Everything I stand for will eventually find its own toes.

I have bruises in my faith, false hopes in my heart,
Substantial steps on a critical path as continue to walk,
They call it life,
I call it a road,
Got a journey of mine
You got a journey of yours,
We might walk together if you pretty matured
But not, if you not pretty at all,
Your beauty is inside, and not everyone can see that for sure,

I’m bleeding this love,
While tackling hate wrestling fate playing my part,
I’m holding on firm with hope,
Adding on to cope with faith
Faded with fire fables formulating that fist,
Its fate I guess,
From all this test
I’m bleeding inside but all is well.

She imitates stars, fly as she stood tall,
Burying her worries inside that chamber of reflection,
Merciful but never grateful for those blessings in disguise,
She wanted more, or maybe less of what she never had before,
Starting up that emotional fire to burn her past with love,
And I
Happened to be the guy hidden in the organ that pumps her blood,
Shared with friends of hers, who never had no ears,
Or any interest to wish for anything good for her,
Blinded by the community of hypocrites, she stretched her arms
While I was still there inside, hurt, played, fed up and just ran away from Snakes.
Forgot the importance of gloves and touched the base,
Her face was pale and mine was not the same,
Death on that case, happened to be on repeat cause I died again,
Stabbed by the pharaoh’s arrows behind forbidden shadows
With candles that happen to burn bridges enough to hold on to my mistakes.
Clearly it’s a shame, because obviously that little bit happiness that I had, got snatched away.

As far away as my mind can take me to place with no pain,
But still these scars are not healing,
Hurt enough to love and I’m still living,
Breathing, seeing
Beyond the limits,
But the fact is, I’m still bleeding

Bleeding, bleeding
from these hidden scars

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741