Today I am taking down my closet doors.
With my Dad’s old screwdriver, a little elbow grease,
And the sweat that will drip from my pores,
I will welcome the old me to the new one.

you,
taught me how to hide my curls
in a cloak of shame.
told me I should cry every time my eyes
landed on the details carved into my brown face.
constantly reminded me I wasn’t in close enough proximity.

What will you let yourself know?

And what will you put in boxes

And crush

Hoping it won’t spring up again

When you asked me who I thought you were and I didn’t have an answer, I was worried. Why does my brain not instantly generate poetry when I think about how beautiful you are? Now that I have an answer I am terrified.

My mother mourns leaving her own country so deeply it runs through her veins into mine. Bangladesh is what she knows and what she loves. She spends her time showing me her culture: spinning through dances, running through poetry, and wading through history.

Giggling, Aditi grabs my hand and twirls me along as her ghagra’s elaborate mirror embroidery catches in colorful lighting.

But you need it, you said. I thought you wanted to be beautiful. I slammed my hands on the wheel of your Land Rover and pulled over to the side of the road near the big houses with green lawns and trampolines, Norfolk Way.

I am from

the expressions of my people

flattened nose and slits for eyes

leathery skin and cricks in my back

each feature of mine

a reflection of my family heritage

Embers in my hair, black dust getting to my lungs. Red, yellow, purple, blue fire in front of me, behind me, beside me. Above and below me. Within me.

From the moment a screaming woman thrusts us into the world,

Soft, bloody heads first.

We begin to deteriorate.

For some, that occurs at a faster pace than others.

who cares about that umbilical cord when it doesn’t stop you from hurting me

you say I’m part of you but I feel you don’t love every part of me

let’s go through my childhood book of memories

earliest one my neck falling backwards

It’s 10 pm on a cold-for-California winter night, and there’s nothing I want to do more than to leave the ice cream shop. I drag the mop along the floor behind me, letting its weight act as an excuse for my lack of movement.

I am from hard worn leather beneath my feet.

Watching my second home from my favorite place,

4 feet above the ground.

From sounds of gymnastics filling my ears

to a layer of chalk and sweat that coats everything from my

Typing the conclusion of my English essay,

in a loud, dimly lit coffee shop,

I peer over my laptop screen

and see the type of girl you only see

in pictures.

We live on our floating planet,

this hunk, this rock,

we are so small. 

When you look into a window

What do you see?

A face staring back at you,

As happy as can be

You ask the face a question

Why do you smile so much?

Hearing the phantom calls of the organ,

And the soft murmur of the church choir,

Awakened from sleep with a feeling she couldn’t describe,

She got out of bed and followed it outside.

A careful mist lay over her small town, a light shield of protection.

A class clown attempted murder today.

A mother’s little boy,

a child’s best friend,

a teacher’s beloved terror,

stood over the monster who raised his freckly faced son

like the animal he’d become,

clutching a knife.

I’m torn between two worlds

One where I’m accepted from what I’ve become

And another where I’m hated for who I’ve been.

Each day I walk the line between the worlds

Trying to keep each other apart

But I know one day I will fail

 All the things inside of me, swimming in my soul,

Show on the outside, like a see through glass bowl,

 My clothes are colorful with a comfy fit,

 Showing my humor, style, and wit,

 My athleticism is shown also by my clothes,

Sometimes things are not the way they seem

Say an M&M for instance, its candy coated on the outside

But chocolate in the inside.

Some say they are lonely in the inside

But so busy out there.

Different: not the same as another.

My “friends” and I, we’re different from each other.

They are cool; I am not.

I am lame; they are hot.

Even when they’re wrong, people think they’re right.

They like the day; I like the night.

On a journey,

Without reasons,

Conforming to the changing seasons,

Flowing like a great song,

Thoughts of things grow ever long,

Mountains passing,

Some dreams crashing,

While others come to birth.

Unaware, small,

Self-sufficient, put together

Strong, very smart,

Follower, talker,

Experienced, funny,

Selfish, make-up

My outside a shy, colorless human being

Soft spoken and gentle as can be

How I appear “perfect” and “flawless” as can be.

However my only flaw may be how I have another person

Wanting to be set free...

I look at them around me

Those who with my choices disagree

My eyes drop

They’re staring

Quickly judging what they see.

I’m here,

But

No one sees me.

I walk through,

Invisible

Like the truth

Behind the mirror.

For me,

They have blind eyes

Of icy blue.

To get in

I jump the fence.

My mind confused. My body unable to move. My blood

gone cold. My face turns pale. I look in the mirror to see no

one no reflection the reflection that I once saw was that of a

girl that was fake had no love for anyone but herself my life

Though I am not great

I have become a name*

The problems I’ve faced

The tasks I’ve completed

Have made me this name

On the outside I am a Superhero,

A lively, ambitious girl anyone can count on.

No matter the risk, anguish, or pain it causes me,

I will do anything I can to help others with a smile on my face.