533. Dust Storm

You look down on me,

In the dust,

Of the storms you’ve created,

And judge me for being dirty;

When consequences can not be abated,

By your guilt.

I brush myself off again,

In the eye,

Of your ignorance,

And wait for the dust to settle in,

On the odd chance,

You’ll look down upon yourself,…

And turn to dust.

K. Aldaya, 04/17/21

Picture: By Austin Ban on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/IS6RwpuEJpY

453. Dust Yourself Off

I hate when you treat me nicely.

I hate when I start to believe.

I hate that I set myself up again,

To question reality.

I hate that you’re not a monster.

I hate that I can’t run away.

I hate that I will walk closer to you,

And put myself in danger.

I hate that life’s not black or white.

I hate that I do not hate you.

I hate that nothing is ever simple,

And that none of this feels right.

I hate that I can not trust you.

I hate that to trust is a trap.

I hate that I try, and hate that I care,

When I really don’t want to.

I hate that you don’t really care.

I hate that it’s all a mirage.

I hate that I always hate myself more,

When again you leave me there…

…in your dust.

K. Aldaya, 8/11/18

Picture: https://pixabay.com/en/iraq-sandstorm-weather-man-80329/