Few of my million daily thoughts, stories, and poems survive the battles in my head and make it to this blog.
Help me give them a louder voice.
(All poems are written by me, you can call me Zee)
Take me out of this box you made for me!
“You don’t look like a terrorist” she says to me.
As I take a sip of my drink, I smile, for she thought she complimented me.
I get lost in the ignorance… or maybe it’s innocence that puts me in such a box.
Should I change my name? Maybe dye my hair blond just so you can relate to me?