We are only an act on this stage we call earth
That determines
Our future
Our growth
Our worth
We are only a play in this universe
That determines
Our people
Our health
Our earth
Dont be surprised when the aliens arrive
To tell us why we shouldnt survive
They'll say us humans have no freedom  or  rights
Because all we seem to do is ruin other humans lives

I barely wear my own skin
And you wear me out
Like washed out jeans
And the reputation
You gave yourself.

You see, I used to linger
In the void,
Without an etiquette
And I was twenty-four people
In a single day.

When you say we are here
For me and not for you,
I can't help but crash
And shut down
Like an old computer
And when you turn me back on

I am reset, but still broken.


-- Eleanor

1764

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
  The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
  At night’s delicious close.

Between the March and April line—
  That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
  Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
  That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
  Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
  And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
  Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
  As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
  So dangerously near.