Day in, day out, thinking about
what I would lose but won’t show.
Mom goes to dialysis every other day.
Four hours she comes back home.
I walk past and close the door.
Dad says why am I so selfish,
won’t even grab the bag of my
mother’s comforts during the operation.
Don’t I know what she’s going through?
Face, red, tears, rainfall,
I walk away with a knife in my
chest, hoping I would die, again and again.
It’s dusk, the sun falling, the moon, white.
Dad says his stomach hurts.
The scar on his right belly, five inches
I don’t know how many stitches.
It stares me in the face while my father
covers my bloody arm. I just fell
off my bike and shaved six inches of my skin
Head almost cracked open. Karma.
School’s getting weary. Three AP’s,
four hours of homework.
I sit from eight ‘til one scribbling nonsense
on the blue-lined paper.
There I stand, on a field of grounded rocks.
My toes buried.
There I stand free to the sky four
feet five inches tall
as the glowing yellow ball
drowned into the sea.
I stood there that day on
that land I had gone to war with.
A billion six legged friends erupting
from a volcano.
I kicked, I punched, I blew them away.
I had won the battle of my
flavor glazed chips.
I heard a voice calling me back home.
But as I looked they came back.
A divine hero surrounded and this time
it was too late to act.
They consumed me
and I in pain of a thousand
A divine hero down.
A divine hero in pain.
A divine hero who is me.
A 10 year old stung by ants.