Onions Make Us Cry

In my madness, I'm saner than ever In grand fear and high fever; Lived in a lovely white house. Turned out to be Hades. One after the other, I raised my babies With a broken tooth, bruised limbs, cracked ribs, countless black eyes… shifted jaw All these, against the law. Smiled at them, “Daddy loves you” I'll quiver I had died many a times but I carried on, a diva Nobody, no one knew Malinda I cannot boast of knowing her either Not even DJ, whose eyes, bloodshot will ask… beg for a scream, for a tear Oh no, not for you anymore, not a tear, my dear. In the bath, my sacred grove, I set my eyes free Where Fenjal and salty waters from my duct became sea White orchids by my head do not know what to say They look on, promising in their purity that someday, there'll be a true smile.. Into pulp, I turned scores of times… Malinda? Always the diva. Beware what you envy, I think to the obsequious eyes The Ferragamo, Celine and Guerlain; just guilt ridden gestures I loathe them, but they are divine on me They make Malinda your dream; that dream you desperately crave to come true What could be better than a perfect smile sitting pretty, impenetrably on a dainty face? A perfect façade with no pore left open to unearth tons of pain, hate and love. Hate and Love Did ever such love and hate exist? Both so energetic Yet disappointingly vulnerable In my heart they did feast Both, just wanting to belong