Two, three more poems, please?

Day two of poetry month
2. Visitor 

De thump de thump
The beating of my heart felt
Unfamiliar

Conk, thump, conk
My footsteps felt
Heavy

My hands were
Sweaty
My eyes
Unblinking

As I took a slow step
Forward
The door looking less and less
Like a
Safe haven
And more like
Hell

For a minute
I wondered if I should have
Turned around
Too late now
I think to myself
As I finally reach the door

Thump, thump, thump
My knocking sounded like
Thunder
During a stormy night

Silence then…
The click of a lock
Opening
Then the soft creak of an
Opening door

As my eyes started to
Close
And then I felt something
Falling
Into familiar
Arms
~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Day three of poetry month
3. I'm sorry/ I'm not sorry

I’m sorry for being so unapologetic
I’m sorry for being so uncaring
I’m sorry for abandoning you in your time of need
I’m sorry for having ever met you

I’m not sorry for having met you
I’m not sorry for you being the way you are
I’m not sorry for you having abandoned me
I’m not sorry for being your friend

I’m still sorry for having you in my life
I’m sorry for having you around my violent ways
I’m sorry for being your friend

I’m not sorry for still having you in my life
I’m not sorry for hanging around you
I’m still not sorry
So please stop apologizing

I’m sorry
I'm not
~.~.~.~.~
Day four of poetry month
4. 100% Dad

Vietnamese

American

Hard working

Tired

Happy

Frowny

Angry

Determined

Tall

Lazy

Human

My dad

100%

2. Complicated

                As I sit by my brother’s bed, holding his hand. I feel my web slowly coming undone only to have it tangle on the other end. My original web of thoughts and emotions is now evolving into something else. Something twisted and complicated something that shouldn’t be touched and figured out. So instead of trying to figure out my own web of thoughts and emotions I focus on my brother’s web. And try to consider things from his point of view as Atticus told Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird. But as I try to get into my brother’s complicated mess of lies, secrets, and intentions not worth having. It disgusted me to know that I was even related to him. It also saddened me to know that my only brother turned out this way. Lying in a hospital bed with nothing except for the darkness of his thoughts. Thoughts that are probably trying to think of a way to turn light again. Or thoughts that keep on replaying the last moments of that car crash over and over again. Thoughts that are wondering what has gone wrong, why the owner’s life turned up that way. Or maybe the thoughts and emotions have become too deteriorated by the simple addicting smell of cocaine, and the warming affect of the pee tasting alcohol.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” (To Kill a Mockingbird)

                My own thoughts play that quote over and over again. Trying to find a way to climb into Sander’s own skin and see what he saw, feel what he felt. It doesn’t work out. I can only see the pale, fragile fourteen-year-old boy in front of me. And the disgusted feeling that comes when I lay my eyes on him. It’s quickly replaced by an empty feeling of all that I’ve lost the past two years. I know I should love him and be supporting of him especially in this critical time of need. Only I can’t feel it, not at all. It’s not in the depth of my bones, nor is it in my soul or my heart. And it’s definitely not in my brain. The love and support I gave him only resides in memories now. Memories showing how close we once were, the happiness we once felt. Memories that are like the stars in the universe, once bright and full of life, now they’re just dead giving the illusion of still being alive.

                “Are you okay?” asks a voice that was most likely one of Sander’s druggies. He must have noticed me sitting besides my brother’s bed holding his cold fingers. He also must of saw the empty look in my eyes as they try to stare at anything that isn’t human or breathing. Or he might have noticed just how wrecked I really am. A girl that’s tangling herself in the webs of others trying to find a way to suffocate from it all and simply die. Or he didn’t notice anything at all just a supposedly worried sister holding her brother’s hand.

                “Are you okay?” repeats the voice. The question hangs in the air being met by the silence. A tear drops as my hand starts to squeeze my brother’s remaining life out of him. Then another and another till it becomes a steady stream. Only I don’t feel sadness all I can feel is disgust, hate, pity, and an undeniable emptiness that has been in my life all along.  The answer to the guy’s question starts to twist and complicate itself into a deadly intricate web having answers that won’t tell anyone including me.