Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

There comes a time in all of our lives where we must decide to flee or fight. I fought so hard and gave you the stars, stole the sun's light from wide and afar. I made amends, disassociated myself from idle friends, but in the end, dissonance reigned triumphant as the sole trend. Now I flee, create oceans where there were none before. Your opinion of me is sad and oblique, I know my worth and have a lot more in store. My future will be filled with kings and queens, I will be royal as I am majestic in my own right; blind in regards to you, but I still have my sight. You robbed me of the years in which I could have made my own mark on this world. The wasted time is equal to the oysters that failed to deliver pearls. You were the straw that broke this camel's back, under attack, I regroup and long to paint you black. Ebony like the heart that hides within your shallow chest, possessed by the demons of my past that puts you at unrest. Your presence in my life was similar ...

My tears fell from these eyes for four long years, and still you've yet to claim me as your prize. I did handstands for you, cartwheels were not enough. You called my bluff, and sent me running for the hills. Still, I am yours for the taking; my heart is breaking as my body is aching for your touch. Like a crutch, I am bound to you like paper to glue; you make me feel brand new. Renewed, I reach for your hand, hoping you will see that I am your man. I waited, counted down the days until you would realize that I was your slave. I would wipe tears from your eyes, and steal the sorrow straight out of your heart if only you had acknowledged my love from the start. I was here for you, near to you, yet you still pushed me aside and refused the truth. As my youth faded, I came to see, that our compatibility was too much to refute. Still, I got the boot; kicked to the curb like the ash from your cigarette; I don't function anymore. I am not a whore, no Jezebel; your secrets I will not ...