Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

Cooler than the summer breeze, I have the power deep inside that brings you crashing down to your knees. You test me with your spitefulness, disdainful as the rose's thorny kiss, yet still I rise higher than the trees that caress the clouds like a trapeze. I am the only one I know in this flock of sheep that dares to question all I hear, my senses may attempt to fool me, yet I am not held up by strings, and you are not my puppeteer. The days they blur into nights, yet the fire inside fails to be doused, my determination has ignited a strength, a will, a promise that remains devout. It fills me with the utmost cheer, as I realize that I remain, consistent until the day I die, stronger with each passing year. I have risen from the ashes, a thousand times, as my wings refuse to catch aflame, paid my dues for many crimes, no longer a victim of your social concept known as shame. You can not hold a candle to me on your brightest day, I am the star that refuses to fall to Earth, I ...

In the middle again, I found myself caught between evil and good. To grandmother's house I go, as I don my cape like Red Riding Hood. Unbeknownst to me, you were always the wolf, so big and bad; the little boy who cried lies, as hot tears stream endlessly onto my writing pad. I sat in the corner and pulled a blade out of my depressing pie, crossed my heart like hot cross buns, as I watched you stick a needle in my eye. You are the muffin man from Drury Lane who fed me cakes full of delusion and drugs, poisoned and delerious as I tried to trade them in for hugs. I left a trail of crumbs in the hopes that I would find my way home soon, pruck my finger on a loom, as I anxiously anticipated the arrival of someone who could make me swoon. This little piggy had dignity, the other piggy had none, as I hoped in my heart of hearts that I would stop tricking myself into believing that you were the one. Even Mary's little lamb would refuse to keep you company, misery will turn the ...

Teardrop waterfalls stain my eyes like the sun that refused to rise, my heart cries endlessly for the man I was supposed to become, numb, I hang my head low, deaf, blind, and now dumb. Enchanted once, but now I turn to distractions instead to make me whole, as the smoke fills the air, disappearing from life's bowl. Grandiose lies, schemes full of wasted effort, and wasted tries. My skin begins to sag, hanging loosely from my bodice, like a novice, I realize that I am my own future's artist. On my own hit list, I became my biggest threat; full of regrets, sadness poured from my soul, drowned my sorrows with toxins until my veins rejected the poison that I injected. Dejected, I object to becoming infected. Always the town fool, the little boy who cried lies, whispers progress into shouts and then screams, as time speeds up, and shows us how it flies. My face, once the cause for envy of many others my age, melted, stripped, and burned off until it showed the underlying rage...

Your smile lights up my days like the morning sun. At night, you illuminate my world, my moon, you are the one. Your eyes filled with fiery embers, radiance emanates deep within, molten rock and lava blow your cover when it's clear that you are suffering. The same eyes that are filled with pools of wonder, with such vast expanses of wisdom that I could get lost. My mind is your playground, and your heart is my home; tell me all your secrets as we set sail for Rome. I kiss my feet for leading me down the path that ended at your own; majestically, you own me, as you help me climb atop your throne. The hands, and arms that hold me might as well be impenetrable castle walls, like a cushion, you are my comfort, as you protect me from my falls. Your ears listen endlessly, never hinting at judgment or mistrust, the chemicals between us bubble, fizz, pop, and spontaneously combust. Laughter fills our home from the wee hours of the morning until late at night, there is a fire within...