I crave soft touches and gentle words.
Reassuring hands holding mine in the
darkness of this world. Sweet humanity
cradling my soul as I no longer fear for
the present. I wish for tender care given
by rough hands, silky hands, and every
hand in between. Love isn’t shown in
bravery or strength. It is shown in kind-
ness and compassion. Love is as bright
and soft as a full moon on a starry night.

History has always had your back.
Society will always stab you in it.
Let heads roll low on the ground,
While you hold your head high.
Might doesn’t ever make right.
The strongest among us are always
those with naught but compassion
and kindness growing in their hearts.
Weeds, they will always grow back.
Society will tell you that there is no
difference between strength and will.
History tells us that will is stronger.

We are all heroes in someone’s story.
A brief moment.
A needed word.
A helping hand.

We all question if we’re the bad guy.
In the sink, we see blood.
In the mirror, we see the villain.
In our heads, we hear the victims.

We all are just normal people in the end.
Flying through life.
Saving the people we love.
Protecting what we care about.

We may be the heroes after all.

Your sickening words
Are a bitter ambrosia.

Your compliments insult
As piercing as a dagger.

You make me bleed
Divine drops of gold.

You made me holy
To **** my mortality.

I am not ready to die
And be cursed by life.

I am unwilling to serve
Under your command.

I was willing to once,
But now I have learned.

I was a foolish mortal soul
Who was tricked by a god.

We do not sleep. Our all-seeing eyes do not close to rest.
Our ethereal bodies don’t have such mundane needs.

But we do dream.
Vivid imaginations are one of our token traits.
Through our dreams, we create schematics and prototypes.
We test theories and explore ideas in our superconscious minds.

After all, human…
What is mankind if not
a dream that the gods
decided to write down
in dirt and blood?

The look on her face is longing.
A subtle pout. Distant eyes.
She looks out the window at the sunset.
Yet another day spent quietly alone.
Plans were made to end the quiet.
Those plans were canceled. She longs
for community, connection, camaraderie.
She wishes for acceptance and empathy.
Alas, she must open the door
to welcome in such things.
So she sits on the floor.
With longing painted on her face.

Golden light streams from the heavens.
Streaks of vibrancy smear the sky,
Tearing into the clouds, as the sun descends on the earth.
Like rockets, an explosion of color decorates the above.
With fiery love, a sunset falls like a sparkling firework.
Eyes watch as the brilliant bombing takes the light from the hills.
Alas, night has overtaken the warzone of the sky’s stage once more.
May the battle continue tomorrow.