i wipe the makeup off my face
hastily
like i’ve got places to be
like the world is racing me
and i catch
the spots on my cheeks
they bleed
i never had spots as a teen
and my friends voiced their jealousy
but i hit twenty
and they began blossoming on skin
“from all the stress within”, my mother says
and i have to agree
these last couple of years
have really tested me
the weight of responsibility
makes it hard to breathe
but i am here
bleeding
literally
blood seeping from my pores
even though i’m scared of life
i still want more
and i think i exist
to create
to make my pen kiss the page
to make a mosaic out of rage
and each time i do
i become a little more like God
i have made something
it is messy
and uncertain
but i have created
i am messy
and uncertain
blood-stained cheeks
and stubborn mascara
but i am alive
i never felt hope as a teen
but i hit twenty
and hope started blossoming
“from the lessons stored within”, i say
i am alive
and one day
these hands will feel like mine.
16:49pm - 18/06/25