On The Price of Bricks

khurram mozaffar writes

I built a wall using bricks soaked in thick red blood
It blocked the sunlight from my days and kept me from the flood.
I took the monsters from my head and placed them on the other side.
I told the fear in my heart to find somewhere else to hide.

I would stand in the darkness of the shade I created.
Proclaimed love for a world that I knew that I hated.
But I was right. I was sure. That I did the right thing.
The demons over the wall would howl, holler, and sing.

What you’re suggesting is absurd, that I’ve known from the get go,
That those screams from the other side are just my own echo,
That this wall that I’ve built traps my fears in here with me,
That though I professed innocence, I knew I was guilty.

I will build this wall higher, using…

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Just a Dream

I worked hard my entire life,

for that auspicious Day.

Sacrificed a lot,

gave up fun and play.

I did well in school,

always got good grades.

Hoped that maybe one day,

my hard work would be repaid.

Stayed up late at night,

studying for SATs.

I still remember my father’s face,

he was so proud of me.

My confidence was oozing, bursting at the seam,

Woke up on April 1st, and realized it was just a dream.