Words run through my veins
         Freed by the cold sting of a pen.
     Flowing over my arm in stanzas and rhymes,
                 I relish the feeling
                          Of poetry running under the pen.
      So many times I cut the words free
  Until I have a song
               Falling in crimson drops from my body,
And I can again contain the words
                                       I hold in my blood.
     But my body replenishes the words,
                               And I must again free them.
        The pen cuts through my veins
                     Spilling the sonnets and the ballads,
And I do this again and again,
                   Until just once the pen goes too deep.       The words flow too swiftly to make a poem
   And I lose the would-be poems that made me.
                     I release the poetry in my veins,             And as they desperately try to revive me,
                                        I slowly fade out.

       My words were my strength
                                          and my downfall.

The scars of yesterday
Will make you stronger for tomorrow
Day by day
Through the pain and sorrow

Nauseous and weighed down by a pit in my stomach. I feel the same things I felt that day in silences that often overwhelm my senses. I cried for you, I felt the insides of the void you left behind and cried some more.
I didn't know you as much as I should have. I didn't talk to you as much as I should have. I didn't hold your hand or massage your feet as much as I should have. I didn't understand that you could go away, as much as I should have.
I regret my callousness when I remember how they cried when you left us. When I remember how I cried when I thought of the pain everyone was going through.
Ever since I could see, I saw you. Smiling and praying and scolding. I never did expect that you would have to leave. We never think that the places we seen since birth could one day no longer be there, do we?
But thank you, thank you for calling me your grandson, for praying for me night after night, for imprinting powerful Bible verses into me. For giving me your vitamin candies. For holding my heavy hand in your frail one.
You are the kindest soul I have ever seen, always smiling, always talking to random people like they're your children. You smiled better than flowers did and spoke of only good things. Never did I hear a harsh word even begin to form on your lips.
I am sorry. If I could, I'd remember all your smiles and all your wrinkles. And all your love.

Thank you for being my grandmother.

hold me close
   in your arms,
   as my memories
   fade away from
   me.
heal my broken heart,
   for i am not an
   artificial being,
   for i go on
   feeling.
take me away from
   the void of fears
   and making experiences,
   as you open up your
   heart.
i'll always remember
   the time we spent
   together, in this selfish
   and limited
   lifespan.

What more can you get from people that have given up on you

what more can you do if they still refuse to understand the things you're going through even if you tried so many ways, and used so many words to explain

what more can you hope for when you screams for help are seen as whinings of a small child

What more can they give you... except heartaches?