Results have come back, in good news they lack
Paper held in trembling hands
She hasn't a clue, as to what she should do
Tears forming watery bands

The child wonders on, where her moms hair has gone
She accepts 'cause she isn't the wiser
The mom dries her tears, and puts aside fears
The results? Well they didn't surprise her

Her form ever frail, her soft skin is pale
Her sanity nearing derailment
Her child is fair, with wind in her hair
But the mother's the one with the ailment

She pushes the swing, her daughter she brings
Gentle movements like a dancer
Soon to be dead, hood over her head
Mother has terminal cancer

I sing
I place within me, these tired hands
to pull notes from my heart and offer them
to those who no longer reach

I cry out with my voice
A whole piece of love
and ten million shattered vocals
that fall to the ground in a glittering display
For I often harmonize
with the hammer of emotion

These beats and bangs in my chest
I contemplate a symphony
Steal the chords from little flying angels
and watch them scowl as I sing in spite

Memories crumble to dust
Bricks of remembrance
Thrown angrily from the windows of my eyes
Shattering the glass seven floors up

At the bottom
The feet of those on the first floor
Had to walk on shards of regret
A treacherous, ****** movement
And in the end got no where
But back to the stained carpets
Screaming inside the walls
Of a house
Not a home

The second floor
Tenants fell to their knees
Begging for the first floor
To relax
The commotion was just
Too much too handle
Rattling the weakened, buckled walls

The third floor
They were frightened from the up rise of chaos
Got sick to the stomach
And doubled over in pained retrospect
Because they left their windows open
And swallowed air
Instead of pride

The fourth floor
Was broken beyond repair
Cracked right down the middle
Blood seeped from it's fissured walls
Like an arrow wound to the heart
Those inside sprawled in puddles of conflict

The fifth floor
Was out of bandages
For the fourth floor
They used them for mouth covers
So the sixth floor above couldn't smell
The lies on their breath

The sixth floor
Always did hold a nose in the air
But that couldn't hide them from trouble
They were stuffy, and often full
As though the tears that often ran down the bridges
Were more than the emotional pressures
They could carry at once

The seventh floor
Was tired of everything
Constantly red and with teary eyes
They stared down upon the whole scene
Disgusted with the image presented
So they threw the newest memories out
And watched them crumble to dust
Seven floors down

I often talk about love as an electric emotion
Good or bad fiction
That is still unknown to me
I've seen the worst of this illusion
As real as it is, it _is still a fiction

I often talk about pain
because am dying to open up  but i can't
so i to write my poems  
to be content, to be peaceful

I wanna feel you tonight,
don't want to be on my own
Just let me be your freak,
and spin the wheel tonight

We are,we are who we are
We are that who we are
We are just those crazy people

Don't worry about diamond
it left me in pieces
shining in blisters
that stranger with hiccups
in death you rest in pieces