This sadness was our burden to carry,
Brother of mine,
Our burden to carry,
Throughout our lives.

Yet you have broken your shackles,
Brother of mine, have finally flown free,
And I am left questioning,
Hoping you will never forget me.

I cried back then, when turmoil unfolded,
And you comforted me with a soothing voice.
Now you have left this place,
And I don't blame you for that choice.

Please, all I am asking of you,
My dear brother,
Do not forget that little boy,
Who feared his mother.

I remain in the rubble of our past,
Please think of me even as you are free.
Back in those cloudy days,
You endeavored to help me see.

I am endlessly grateful.
Do not forget me, brother of mine,
For I might carry this burden,
For all of time.

I have not endured the greatest tragedies,
Which adorn the pages of history in black ink,
But I do know what heartbreak is,
How it feels to fall apart and sink.

Few would be allowed to bleed their emotion,
Were we to compare our struggles to those.
Each experience deserves notice,
Even those struggles of which few know.

Words are for all of us.
Engage in this art.
Sometimes it will be how
You do not fall apart.

When others slam the door,
You close it with gentle hands.
When others scream at the air,
You focus on your plans.

Explosive anger consumes many,
They react in the most unenviable way,
It is disheartening that they can lose themselves so,
As they live immersed in their day-to-day.

Be higher, choose to concentrate,
Know that you are the key holder for your fate.

When others slam the door,
You close it with gentle hands.
When others scream at the air,
You focus on your plans.

I might as well not speak,
For my words are heard by none.
Yet I will always listen,
For silence seems to stun.

Determination strikes so occasionally for me,
As if prospering only in the strictest of conditions,
But when it does sprout up from nowhere,
My head is filled with so many visions.

I see a course ahead of me traveled by many,
But conquered by very few,
And my probability to succeed is not greater,
That seems to be true.

But I feel like no road worth paving
Will manage to pave itself.
A book does not find its own way
Onto the tall, looming bookshelf.

The pavement must be my doing,
For the result to be worthwhile;
I have not always accepted this,
But then I was in denial.

If you are complacent,
And expect your road to unfold,
You will grow very frustrated as nothing happens,
And you will only become old.

Sometimes when I stare into mirrors,
I see an array of illusions.
I have a hard time knowing if they're truths,
Or if they are delusions.

For example, sometimes I look and see gross skin,
But then someone will tell me I'm glowing.
I'll look into the glass and see nothing worthwhile,
Because my fat neck is showing.

Other times I will feel attractive,
As I stare into my own brown eyes,
Which I convince myself smolder,
Mocha orbs that are wise.

But then someone will point out a pimple,
And tell me I don't look that great.
I am starting to think illusions
Are all that make up my face.

My tears have caught in my eye sockets,
Far back where they cannot pass.
I yearn for the temporary relief of their flowing,
But that relief would not last.

Once the tears dried up,
Resolve trickling back into my mind,
Self-hatred would be the only feeling,
The only thing I would find.

So, crying is not worth it,
Though I feel ready to explode.
I have run far from my past,
When the tears always flowed.

To return now, to break down my wall,
Of cold, placid emotion,
I think that would be a fall,
Some sort of pitiful demotion.

Rib cages are meant to protect our hearts,
Shield them from possible danger.
I must not have received that part,
For pain has been no stranger.

I think it shriveled up,
As it met the the cruelty of life,
Met the guilt that comes with death,
The emptiness that comes with strife.

What does that make me,
To exist without a heart?
It means I am nothing,
My life has lost its art.

The damage you cause for me,
With that I can learn to live.
But don't you dare bestow that pain,
To outsiders who only give.

You weave a nasty web within this house,
Everyone follows your cruel law.
I won't let you give that pain
To an outsider whose emotions are raw.

I can tell when someone has endured enough,
When they have felt bad feelings,
And I won't let your destructive addiction,
Destroy this person's process of healing.

Mama bears don't turn their claws on their cubs,
So stop using that excuse to condone your actions.
Or believe me, you weak woman,
You will get an undesired reaction.

Babbling like a fool,
Proving myself a tool,
I see judgment in those eyes,
I know I am despised.

My mouth closes then,
This is not my friend.
They think I am dumb,
I feel oh so numb.

Mouth, know your place,
It is inferior, like your face.
Please, get in line,
That disdain is a sign.

Speaking is not meant for me,
I am a total freak.
They know it on sight,
My chest is so tight.

Put me out of my suffering,
Their judgment is puncturing.
Their eyes are deadly blades,
I wish that I could fade.

Strength does not just exist,
It grows over time,
And if you poison the soil,
It will never transcend grime.

Flowers spring up when nurtured,
But wither away when left alone;
Winter will **** them also,
This has been continually shown.

The process needs the right environment,
Or it will never be completed.
And as you pick yourself up from the dirt,
You will wonder why you are always defeated.

Whenever I must add new people to my life,
I feel that it is my duty to be my most likable version,
And because of that, I wear makeup, straighten my hair,
And lose myself in aesthetic immersion.

I feel better when I feel pretty,
And that breaks my heart.
I never thought my happiness,
Was such a simple and vain art.

Derick knew what he had done,
To earn the impression of delinquency.
He had broken the law many times,
And fought with people frequently.

His mother branded him a danger,
To society and himself.
His father branded him a stranger,
His real son lived upon a shelf.

"See this boy here?" his dad would say,
Tapping a photograph of young Derick.
He remembered that day,
When life had been more generic.

That was before his father slouched alone,
Bottle in palm of hand,
Talking to women on the phone,
What a role model, what a man.

"I see the boy," Derrick said,
His voice quiet as night.
"But I don't see the man,
Who prompted me to fight."

Little Derik came across his father,
Back then, talking to his women,
He managed to anger the man,
Who hit him then claimed to be kiddin'.

His father flushed with anger,
He hit his son in the face.
"Don't you dare say that,
You know your place!"

Derick, he was deemed society's menace,
Few cared that his father drove him so,
I hope that you will judge less,
For you simply never know.

When I was a boy,
My heart resembled a rose,
Which could not see chaos,
My innocence did show.

When I became a young man,
The rose, it grew thorns,
Dark, hardened bits formed
When I was made to mourn.

It seemed life handed death to me,
Like it was running out of time,
Running out of time to break me,
That conclusion I did find.

But those deaths have not affected me
Like the living tragedies have,
And the living tragedies drive me closer,
To thoughts I once never had.

Here I am, reaching the end of adolescence,
A time that is meant to form us as people.
Here I am, feeling that I deserve more grief,
That I have always been inherently evil.

The horizon offers much for me,
But I fear it will not come easily.
Then again, it could not be worse
Than what life has dealt me habitually.

So, onward I will march,
As I have done for quite a while.
Though the bullets strike me often,
I will somehow endure this trial.

What words should I have?
What can I possibly say?
What will ease your concerns,
Better your agonizing day?

The truth is, as long as pain continues,
And your muscles never mend,
You will never be at ease,
There will be no words I can lend.

You make the pain, my mother,
As long as you accept drink as lover,
The pain is not going to cease,
You will never recover.

These are the words I have found,
There you are, my sweet mother,
Now it is your decision, make the choice,
Are you done or will you have another?

All I know is living in the fire,
Feeling the heat, scalding hot;
All I know is infinite hurt,
The tears that it brought.

I am learning life is fragile,
Lest you tie it down with the strongest rope,
The winds will buffet it at all times,
Rendering it impossible to cope.

I am learning moment by moment,
In a way that is mine alone.
I am strengthening each day,
Resembling the toughest stone.

Living in the fire has taught me,
Independence is life's most valuable jewel.
To ignore that vital truth,
I would be proving myself a fool.

You have existed seventeen years,
And blossomed into a man of integrity.
The seasons pass, but you remain grand.
Your kindness and warmth bless this land.

Seventeen years, a tiny fraction of time,
Yet your decency resonates like a chime.
Your arms have been my anchor these years,
Your mind open to me, you have listening ears.

I am stunned by your resilience.
For it speaks of your love for life.
You do not realize how much you love this place,
For it has caused those tears on your face.

Continue growing, my resilient flower,
My resilient man of power.
I will love you for all of infinity,
This connection the boldest of affinities.

Happy birthday, you have aged one more year,
And you grow wiser with each day.
I love you, my handsome prince,
You and I are here to stay.

I have grown,
Yet people think I have fallen.
I have known,
Yet I am tired of calling.

A mere boy at twelve years of age,
I became something frightening.
A mere child who turned a nasty page,
The change struck like lightning.

I had seen abuse,
Trauma plagued me each day,
I dreamed of noose,
Thought God would make me pay.

People met my words,
I called them ******* and ******,
Mocked them as *****, geeks, and nerds,
For my mind had few doors.

My homosexuality burned within my being,
Struggling against the bonds of religion.
I did not want people to start seeing,
My ****** "sin", fragile as a caged pigeon.

I cut into my wrists,
Hoping for some truth to seep out,
Every day I encountered lists,
Of similar youth who "noped" out.

God hated me, that I believed,
He wanted me to bleed then die,
I knew not how to be relieved,
Knowing my pigeon would never fly.

But as the abused grow tired of abusers,
I became tired of God,
Whom dealt me a life of users,
A life significantly flawed.

My situation was not enough,
For the pain did not end with abuse, or cutting,
He dealt me the deaths of three I loved,
Set on the task of my gutting.

Or so I believed at the time,
When God harbored within me.
When mythology guided my climb,
When I remained unfree.

I threw off the shackles of religion,
No fictional being could **** my pigeon.
What God would put me through all that,
Then proceed to bless a sewer rat.

What God would **** children,
What God would **** children?
You do not have an answer.
Why do children die to cancer?

I will respect you,
But I will not share your belief.
Too much pain, for me and others,
It continues to daily reap.

I have grown,
Yet people think I have fallen.
I have known,
Yet I am tired of calling.

The stars beam down at us,
Smiling as we cruise,
Flickering within the city sky.
We have nothing to lose.

Burdens have been left behind,
Where people have discarded reality.
We have escaped the broken woman,
Managed once more to evade fatality.

Our drive cannot last forever,
But I wish that it could.
If I were able to become lost in the night,
Then I surely and happily would.

The sun kissed your features,
As if its light knew no other home,
As if its illumination existed solely for you.
The sun bowed to you.

The wind rustled your hair,
Your jade eyes beamed with radiant youth.
Nothing chained us at that moment,
The world was the canvas for our brush.

Your long fingers intertwined with mine,
I turned your face to place a kiss there.
You had warmed my insides,
Taught me to command my own fate.

Broken humanity will often falter,
As it ponders which mold to fill in,
Ponders what it must alter,
Which path it must begin.

It is a trembling, cowering bird that hides
Within each of our hearts,
Somewhere in a dark corner it abides,
Made up of many broken parts.

We have the role of nursing the bird,
Bringing it back to its purest condition,
There is a fire that must be stirred,
A stunning, unbridled and pure rendition.

My words peep through
The veil of literature,
Like a cautious creature
With wary eyes.

My words, they swim,
Through these oceans of thought,
Darting swiftly with fear
That they might be preyed upon.

My words often fly through the sky,
Where creative feelings linger high,
But they hide among the clouds
So that they will not be grounded.

My words, I try to use them masterfully
So that I will not be quieted but rather heard.
Still, I must make sure I contribute my message,
No matter how I deliver it.

You are done breaking my heart.
Whether or not you realize this,
It does not matter.
I am not yours to tatter.

You will not hurt me any more.
You have proven your weakness,
And shown that you couldn't care less.
Whatever, I'll find peace in this mess.

Everything turns to dust someday.
We learn to hang from a thread.
Everything will fall apart someday.
We stifle tears when we lie in bed.

If you believe in the Christian God,
Then he made us from dust.
Science declares the same thing,
That we were made from dust.

From dust we came,
And dust again we will be.
That is the truth,
One day you will see.

There will be little left,
Of you or me.
Our bodies will come to rest,
Our souls finally free.

A dream has enfolded me on this day.
It appeared like a hallucination,
Earlier when I heard her say,
"I'm going to stop drinking."

It enfolded and then I reminded myself
That hope need be maintained,
For she has in the past thought of herself.
I must prepare for her sinking.

I have the utmost hope,
Whether it be absurd or not,
That she will learn without it to cope.
But until it happens that is wishful thinking.

I will support my mother,
Believe in her always,
Though this waiting makes me smother.
Will she return to her drinking?

My mask of confidence will remain static,
Despite my soul's protesting of her claim.
My true thoughts slip when I'm in the attic,
Aloft and away from hearing ears.

I hope she will come through,
I hope that she is strong enough.
I hope she knows what to do,
Otherwise the night will be soaked in tears.

Our flaws make us who we are,
At least, that is what I am told.
But if I wanted to change my flaws,
Would you deem that too bold?

I feel quite dismal, when I gaze.
When I look into the mirror.
My face is not astounding,
I see very little, I fear.

When I search my soul,
I also see little beauty there.
I think that if I could read thoughts,
I'd learn that few actually care.

My flaws do not make me happy,
They seek my constant attention.
I have flaws that are hidden,
Ones that I dare not mention.

I will change what I can,
That is all that I can do.
After that, I will accept the rest,
Then maybe I won't be quite so blue.

The fire of our hearts,
It burned us to ashes.
We sobbed into our hands,
Tears hanging from our lashes.

Your tears stirred sorrow in me,
To see you torn up tore me down.
It made a whole calamity of feelings
Spur up and become found.

Now, I don't know what we are,
Or even how to advance.
I'm sorry that I went along,
I'm sorry I danced that dance.

The eyes of children are filled with light,
The eyes of children know not of plight.
The eyes of children are innocent,
But purity's death is imminent.

Children become slaves to this world,
This world that tells them to obey,
Slaps trauma onto their souls,
Reprimands them when they play.

Too many kids, tears in their eyes,
Stare into mirrors, faces they despise.
Too many scars, on too many wrists,
Too much instability, too many shifts.

Some kids have known only pain,
Seen petrifying things from early age.
These kids must overcome,
Turn the world's book to a new page.

These kids are the ones who can teach,
These kids are the ones who see,
They see the world is broken,
This is not how it should be.

When I fell into your cave,
Your stalagmites pierced me;
I became impossible to save,
The rock much too deep.

The sun did not shine there,
People did not see me hurt.
They did not see the blood,
How the rock made it spurt.

Some tried to pull me out,
But they all failed upon trying.
My strangled cry became a death shout,
For I was slowly dying.

My body, pulled from the deep cave,
Remained lifeless in your arms;
I had never been saved,
And I met the face of harm.

I was too far gone,
I could not return;
I did not see dawn,
Death I had earned.

Beer has a grotesque taste,
Which sneaks into the back of my throat
Once the cold liquid is against my lips.
My body shakes, I take small sips.

This is her favorite,
This is her drink of choice;
My stomach lurches when I swallow,
And regret shortly follows.

What has become of me?
I am seeking understanding of
Something entirely foreign to me,
As if it will somehow set me free

Warmth has arrived,
Blissful sun rays that kiss upon skin
With the tenderness of a parent's embrace.
It starts in the tissue of my face.

It seeps a little deeper,
Pervading my infinite layers
As if it dreams of warming my soul.
However, it cannot fill the hole.

The heat has come at last,
The season has shifted from cold
To blistering, filling warm.
Yet it does not end my storm.

The future has become uncertain,
A mist that weaves around my fingers;
What if that mist does not exit upon morning,
But instead settles itself and lingers?

Of course I fear the men of your future,
The ones of your past have disturbed my soul;
If that misty fear settles and proves sensible,
What things will follow, oh so reprehensible?

It seemed a long, tedious, yet clear run to freedom,
But you have wrote one more troublesome twist;
We shall see if it results in atrocity,
Terrible things to add to my list.

Blood stains—it taunts as well—
Sings Our Tale—of long farewell—
Inspires art—brings Us to hell—
Blade in hand—We understand—Death's plan—

Dark scythe sweeps across head—
Takes me Under the Ground—
Words unsaid—live forever—Deafening Sound—
Sweeps across this barren town—

Summer's wind,
It chills my ear.
Autumn's breeze,
It cools my cheek.

Things have unraveled in front of us now,
The stars hover over our heads,
Forever has become our sacred vow.

Winter's breeze,
It cools my cheek,
Spring's wind,
It chills my ear.

This life is ours to build,
We start with small bricks,
In order to live our lives fulfilled.

Wind all-year-round,
Gusts at all times,
The passage of time's bell,
Continues to chime.