Pakistan and America 

Eastern and western

but they feel like the north and south poles

I’m immersed in the red silk dresses embroidered by hand and I’m in love with the ability to roam alone across this land

I’m submerged in the value of education before all but I’m also tangled in love and lust, where we all seem to stumble and fall

sometimes seen as arrogant if I don’t see god

sometimes seen as ignorant if I do believe

I like the modest clothing, for immodesty is a sin

But I also cherish the bumps and edges that dance across my dark, bare skin

naked or clothed, how about being both?

 It leaves me vulnerable

It isn’t a mood, these things I love, I love them all at once, although they oppose each other

A tug of war, but in my mind

A terrible decision one way, the other sublime

I’m pulling from both sides with all my might

but the rope doesn’t sway, not left nor right

And my hands are tearing apart trying to pull too tight

To find one easy side to stick with

Blistered and bleeding, my hands will soon collapse

But with time I built calluses, eventually I started to relax

Pakistan or America, I choose carefully, building my traits

Eventually I balance and can finally stay

On this tightrope, instead of falling astray

Fifty feet in the air without a harness

And I’m beautiful

my contradictions are the garnish

This rope is who I have become

A twist of my identity

A burn, a blister

Or a beautiful show

This mystery of mixed

Isn’t something we all get to know 

Hold on to this rope 

For an open mind is no surprise

For people who are tie