Heritage Day

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Today is my last day

 

I manage to crawl off the bed that ceased to be coupled almost a decade ago

then land in my still relatively tiny bathroom, though my own physique seems to be shrinking by the second now

I look up at my reflection and I realise the purpose of mirrors

There is a headline,

my face

wrinkled and grey beneath its letters seems to unfold like an over ripe flower without ever having been touched

it says;

Heritage Day

I shuffle along until I trip over the now almost dry white board marker and I begin the list:

One: I inherited the dark lines of deceit off my mother’s core

Two: I learned how to live with being a liar

Three: I came as a foreign being full of love

Four: I was denied love but I’m still leaving filled with only those four letters

Five: Life was beautiful though the darkness is always the beginning of a new story

Six: I inherited the art

Seven: I will never forget

 

I rinse myself off and decide that it would be better to leave full of hope

After all

3 months before they expected me I was ready

13 years before I was

they weren’t

my family

 

The wardrobe whispered the call of majesty

I obeyed my longing eyes

past the dioors and my goodbye suit

I found the two letter phrase barely in disguise and I remembered why

Heritage day:

One: I learned how to judge myself better than anyone had ever judged me

Two: It wasn’t always sunny

Three: How to fake the smile through heartache

Four: How to cause the same

Five: My clothes are cheap

Six: I am unworthychocolat_l

Seven: I knew this each time we made eye contact… after all; we are self proclaimed judges

 

So neat, tidy and fresh I walk towards the lonely seat and the non functional tv

and on the top right hand corner of the screen

A phrase in white paint screams out at me

Heritage Day:

One: My skin colour murdered my first love

Two: I inherited the skill of not caring much for those attributes

Three: My father Died of a broken heart

Four: You saved mine

Five: Our life was puzzled together by vibes and muted sentences

Six: In the end, my quirks were irrelevant and your were my indica

Seven: I fell eternally asleep with the very thoughts that days and nights before had always haunted me.

 

Palm on palm now

My eye lids find their space

No tears left in me

My heritage day is eternal

and I only grew to know that the moment I looked into you!

 

 

 

 

And The Winner Is…

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After a day of many bad emotions I decided it urgent enough to make  my business everyone else’s. Tonight I rage! Yes! Rage against every law, every stupid rule that society has deemed fit to exist. I do not and will never truly within myself accept other people’s opinions on what is right and what is wrong. Disappointment to me is worse than pain. It is a feeling that leaves one with such a foul taste it makes nightmares seem like nightingales in comparison. My passion in one is compiled of hatred for religion and politics for they are one and the same… for societal norms… I hate that I have had to grow up in an emotionally and financially hostile environment, I hate the people involved in it being so. For the first time in ages I feel truly like an 8 year old – hiding in a corner again, crying tears of hatred and pretending that I don’t actually understand how this wheel of shit turns. 

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I have lived with broken, moulded, hard-working, honest fools. Yet I am doomed to be one of them because my stupid heart feels… it feels shame and pain and love and every other bullshit emotion that keeps us from
truly evolving. I feel like Vader before Vader if any of u know what I mean… I’m pissed off and I wish that I had it in me to be selfish enough to excel… to stand on top and laugh… laugh so hard that my heart ceases to beat. Is my idiocy worse, that I cannot allow my anger to overtake the bigger part of who I am? I love – I love a heart which wishes for me to be a just fool… a fool without fault… because I’ve been told;  I am a fool with potential… I am a fool who could slave the right way and earn the approval of monkeys that I barely care about anyway.
‘Monkeys killing monkeys killing monkeys over pieces of the ground. Silly monkeys, give them thumbs they’ll forge a blade a and beat a brother down; right in two.’