I splashed around the ***** room,
Dropping my knife onto my shoe.
Losing a toe, some dignity and a lot of pride.
I finally made some hot chocolate for tonight.

I couldn’t believe, the nightmares in there,
The smell of my burning skin in the heavy air.
As I melted onto the floor and grunted in pain,
That devilish pie was still laughing in my face.

I never came back, after that day,
Mainly because of my inability to bake.

People are scary, that’s what I know,
They are like animals without leashes
With sharp teeth and lots of diseases
Like Envy and anger, greed and mistrust,
They stab you in the back and leave you to rust.

Go talk to them! They seem nice!
Yeah, sure, as if I believe that foolish piece of advice.
I know how humans are, I know what they can do,
Cause at the end of the day, I am still a stupid human too
And what can I do, when I have the diseases that you do.

I try to change something, but all still the same.
My heart freezes or it feels like its hopping away.
I’ll carve myself to pieces, It will be quite easy to chew,
Not too complicated, bit dull, but that will have to do.
Cause we are all just humans trying to make do.

I’ll miss every single morning, waking up facing my old, crumbling wall, where the grey wallpaper has come off the walls and you can see the zinc. I will miss reaching out with my finger towards a part of the wallpaper and pick at it. Not tear it off or make the wallpaper even more torn off – no. I would just pick at it and as if check if it’s still holding on to the old walls that I grew up in. In this room I spent half of my life. Why only half? Well in this room my brother spent his teenage years and only when he left the nest was I able to inhabit his room. I always wished to be in his room. Here I imagined myself building armies, plotting to take over kingdoms. This would be my castle, my guard, my home.
               I’ll miss the summer’s breeze that washes over me when I sit near one of the country side houses, where the two sweet cheery-trees grow. The old bench that my grandfather built in his time – a very simplistic yet effective creation. Two simple planks, not taken care off and always parts of it splintering off, nailed down to two wood blocks of the old apple trees that we cut down. The bench, if one would even call it that, is not comfortable but I guess the sentimental value makes it pleasant and close to the heart. I remember sitting on that same bench and looking up to the sky, where the pure sky is covered in dark red, sweet cherries. The times when we would get out a ladder and start climbing to the tops of these trees and gather all the cherries into a bucket, then finally sit at home and enjoy the desert as a family. Those where the best moments of the summer. Alongside with the smell of freshly cut grass or the burning sensation of the hot wind brushing against your face.
               I’ll miss walking past the dark forests to the river. I will miss slowly tumbling down the small hill towards the ground where moles have turned up and made the walk down even less enjoyable. Yet in the dark forests, where all sorts of creatures lived and made their homes, you would feel the closest to nature’s heart. On the walk there one would start to hear the sounds of the water trickling down the few hills. How much I will miss the river that I was born from. Not in a mystical way –no. There I spent most of my summers, especially when I was still little and I and my brother would go there for a swim after I had helped him do all the hard work. I remember him, sweating and barely catching his breath after manual labor and looking down at me, with such sincerity in his eyes and compassion in his movements. He would smile and slowly pick me up, place me on his shoulders and we would both walk towards our river. I knew he was tired yet my selfish side didn’t want to miss out on such special occasions when I felt so close to him.
               I’ll miss the line of birch trees. I have a fascination with such trees, most likely because of their unique trunks that are covered in black and white spots as if the zebra of trees. I quite enjoy the fact that birches are the first ones to gain and lose their green leaves. I only think of spring and autumn whenever I look at these marvelous, tall trees. We had another one, one to the side, far away from the young ones. A fifty meter tall tree, reaching towards the sky, its stump thick and filled with ants and termites. We had to cut it down as it started leaning more and more towards the ground, most likely wishing to lay down and finally gain rest after enduring so many storms. Now, between the not so young birch trees there is my hammock. There I would lay whenever I had free time, whenever I wasn’t working and sweating while the either too cold or too hot breeze would make me jump. I will miss the sound of all the leaves wiggling about on the branches as a stronger wind passed them. I will miss seeing the yellow leaves fall off the trees and cover the ground and when few gusts of warm weather would hit, they would become dry and every time you step on them, they crackle and you smile.
               I will miss getting back into my bed, where the same piece of torn wallpaper is and the same four corners that I left in the morning. I will miss, covering myself in the same duvet that I had for so many ears and looking up at the crumbling, white ceiling that I once hit with a ball and few pieces of it came falling down.
               Then I would hear my father shout at my mother.

Echoes of voices, long forgotten and lost.
Travel in my mind, looking for things that were put off.
One speaks in a low yet appealing, dark, sickening tone,
Telling of my wrongs, the foolishness of my choice.

His amused grin, red glowing eyes,
Look into my soul, my brain and my thighs.
Telling how disgusting, how hideous I look today.
Even when I was sure, I was almost an eight.

The other one laughs. Quite cheerful this day.
He smiles, he loves, he makes the bad voice go away…
His tone confident and willing, strong and quite nice to hear.
Reassuring my decision, telling me it is beyond fair.

I listen to the two, loud in my brain.
Yelling, bickering, both telling me I am insane.
“You must pick a side! Pick or drown in disease!”
I listen to the two with quite fair ease.

Amusing that is, I sit quite confused.
No voices, no logic, just a visit from a muse.
Torn between sides, one right and one wrong.
To pick or to drown? Guess that is my choice.

It took me a while, to think of some words…
Words that could heal and make it less hurt.
Though after some thinking, a whole bunch of it,
I write a letter to you, to remember the times I really miss.
I cried on your shoulder, one too many times,
You listened to me when I let myself rot.
You somehow you knew what to say to make it stop…
Remember the time? When we laughed like buffoons?
It was so simple yet wonderful, I miss those times too…
Remember when we talked about pointless things?
Time seemed to pass quickly and it tickled my brain.
You probably don’t even know, how much you really meant,
Because you’re the only person I’ve talked about men,
Or told my deepest secrets and you shared yours too,
My dear, I hope you miss those times too.
I remember you, but it doesn’t cause pain…
It makes me smile, not because I’m insane!
You make me smile, because you were very unique,
You took yourself apart to make others feel less weak.
I thank you so much, for everything that you did,
Not just for me but for every soul that you reached.
Rest well, wait for me and your friends to join up,
It will be fun again to make jokes about butts.
We will giggle out loud, just you and me,
Because you were just that great,
To those that were able to see.

I’m not shouting for attention or the pity that you can give,
I am shouting because I want you to understand what I feel.
I want you to just for a little bit of time
Pretend to think that it’s all justified.
I want you to live, for few minutes in my ***** shoes,
Peer into my head, my heart and my emotional issues.
I want you to know, what it’s like to lose all your will,
To have more control than you will ever even dream.
I want you to understand how I like hugs,
Or those sweet lies I tell myself to feel loved.
I want you to understand, how I feel when you ignored my like that,
I want you to feel just a little pain from all that.
I want you to hear my shout, let it echo in your head,
And hopefully it will grant me an end.
You for that little moment, understand what I feel,
That you are not the center of this crazy wheel.
Just for a little bit, pretend that you can understand,
And then live on, with the rest of your life.

I have no words, words that could change…
How life works for us or mistakes that we make…
We don’t really fit, in everyday human life,
We are but people, standing by the road signs.
We have no clear path or a destination to reach,
We try our hardest, just to get some kind of appeal.
The lackeys, the misfits, the weird looking ones,
The special, the crazy, the one’s that always give up:
We won’t stop loving, moving ahead,
We can’t change anything, but we will try our best.
We won’t always be happy, but we know how to cheer,
For all of the misfits, that we find out there.

Parties are strange, they’re so freaking loud,
All those warm bodies shouting out loud.
At the top of their lungs, with beautiful smiles,
As they chuckle and drink and forget life for a while.

I sat in the corner, of the biggest room,
Where lights were so bright I just didn’t know what to do…
I tried to get a drink, but I don’t like the taste,
So it’s just me being sober, having fun in my brain.

I thought I had a friend here, now I really don’t know,
I saw them having fun so, might as well just let that one go…
Yes, I’m jealous, I know I’m not fun, I shy away from everyone,
Especially when they start to have more fun.

Then they got drunk, beyond understanding,
Crawling on the floor and asking for medicine.
I tend to their needs, while they don’t even know my name,
They just call me strange names and forget that I am there…

Come to think of it, it’s always the case,
Where life is a party and I’m just slowly burning away.
Trying to enjoy but it all just melts away,
With my heart, my soul and feelings of pain.

Once upon a time, there lived a butterfly.
Big blue wings, like the poetic sky,
With colors beyond any sight.
The butterfly was truly very smart,
He had good grades in butterfly school,
Top degrees and medals for excellent wing moves.
Though when he came out, out of his comfy cocoon,
He found out his medals don’t really help him get through.
Showing his skills, in biology tests,
He now knew, how this will end.
Limited time, so much to see, the pressure was quite unreal.
He tried to see it all, the wonderful sights,
Till it started to rain on the little guy.
So wet, so tired and so ******* stressed.
The butterfly did give his best.
And there he waited, for the rain to stop,
Till it all just went completely dark.
And so the butterfly, never really saw,
The beauties and sights, he read about without stop.
He wasted his time, for better weather,
And now he is just another wet petal.

I breathe. Fast. Black. Panic sets in.
Beautiful as the world starts caving in.
The dark birds throwing, a shadow my way,
Predicting a future, filled with dismay.

I see. Shining. Light. Peace comes this day.
The eyes of the one - looking my way.
Does it know that I’m starring?
Those eyes I believe, the smile, the thought. I start to bleed.

I feel. Plenty. Warm. Can it be enough?
To stop the panic, to stop the rust?
My knees are too heavy, breathing is hard.
It gives me its lung, I am more than I thought.

I live. Long. Bright. I think this is it.
No dark birds, no walls crumbling in.
My heart is now beating, so potent, so strong.
The futures great ocean, I start to shrug off.

I remember being five,
Just learned how to read.
I barely got words right
But it kept my mom happy.

I didn’t like books,
They were scary to me.
But then I picked this one up,
From a shelf that was dusty.

And old leather cover,
Torn and abused.
This book was through war,
Through many boxes that moved.

I felt like Indiana Jones,
Discovering something new.
This book was so foreign,
Yet so close to my home.

I opened it up, peered at what’s inside,
Old pages, faded colors, letters that sighed.
I started reading the stories,
Escaping to worlds.

Where witches ate children,
Two brothers hunted for trolls.
There were turtles racing,
Foxes that schemed.

Big castles with princes,
Towers with wizards inside.
A genie, a prophet,
A tyrant to rule the land.

I was lost in those pages,
In the many worlds of dismay,
So colorful, so heavenly,
I think I shall open it today…

I’m so heavy, too heavy, still dragged on the floor.
My thoughts wriggling, sickening in my mind,
That I call the rotting corpse – decayed and rusted.
Every single cell, more disgusting than the next.
I want to wash away these sins, scrub myself clean.
Hot water? Holy water? I don’t feel the burn anymore.
Like a dead corpse, laying around naked and torn.
What choices can I make while lying dead on the floor?
Forgotten and old, my coffin already caving in on my soul…
Worms, sickening old worms, trying to collapse me for what I told,
But my Goliath was stronger and more righteous that others foretold,
As I lack David and the God that helped him turn the tides of war.
Corinthians said that bad company corrupts good souls,
Yet how can you know a good soul when you wounded yourself,
Beyond the understanding of life and death.
I shall forgive and forget, like Matthew once told,
Maybe then I shall grant rest for my rotting soul?
Repentance and penance – the pillars that shall hold me now.
Without faith, without God, it’s just me and my thought clouds.
Maybe a prayer? To those that shall listen,
Being right – is not easily forgiven.

Confession: I visited our pond.
The one where we met, with the lilies.
I picked one up and admired it close,
Holding it tightly to my chest, as if a bible
Over a smoldering flame
Knowing that if I let go
I admit that there is no God.

You picked one up before,
Showed me the soft petals
Laughed when I went to sniff it
But you only pushed it on my nose
And we laughed…at the pond.
You knew, back then, about water lilies.

You told me of different colors
Called them by their Latin names
Told stories that I believed
While holding a water lily.
You knew back then
That the tethered roots in the pond
Will break, and the lily will float away.

I put the lily back into the pond,
Knowing that I agree to defeat.
It floats, loosely and yet intertwined.
All alone.

I wish I was different, more like everyone else…
I wish I was manly and strong by myself.
To have thicker skin, strong muscles,
Better cheekbones and manlier **** muscles…
I can’t help that I am so soft,
I’m like a marshmallow, so puffy and sweet,
I like cute things like cookies and home made things…
I can tell what you should wear on your one night out,
I can say that you look fierce today and giggle out loud…
I can snap my fingers and say “Nu-uh!” but that won’t help,
Cause I am too soft for the world and everyone else…
I can’t help that I like to cuddle a pillow, when I sleep tight
In my very comfy sheets with hearts and cute little beasts…
I think women are nice, they are smart and proud,
They are our mothers, our doctors and teachers,
Without them we would all be so dumb,
Hitting each other with sticks and stones all night long…
Though something about a man is way more special,
They give better hugs and make me feel like I could give my life to another…
I would move mountains for some, yet some are real *****,
They seem to know what’s right when they kick around the weak…
I guess I just like them, for who they are, so strong, so comfy,
So handsome and tall, or short or chubby, they just seem so nice,
They know what would be good for me, they would protect me at night.
I wish I could change something, make myself not who I am now.
But I should learn how to love and be proud,
I am here, almost functional and I am quite caring,
I can be interesting and wonderful and just simply nice,
And maybe I’m soft but I keep myself alive.

I like dreaming about pointless and foolish things,
Like ever green plains with tress as far as the eye can see.
I want to think that I can get away from being wrong,
From being in pain and feeling so afraid of every little thing.
I feel like I will never be the same as I once was,
When I was little with my little ideas and fun.
I remember dreaming of giants, knights and kings.
Protecting the kingdom from very evil things.
Exploring the deep ocean, creating a cure,
Making people happy with a stupid slur.
I remember dreaming of being clearly heard,
My wishes granted and my hopes unfold.
Things were so better, when I was just six,
I didn’t have to learn how to deal with human-ish things.
Now I feel pressure and stress, loneliness build up,
Soon I will probably break and declare that I am once again stuck.
I will continue to chase my hopes and my dreams,
Protecting them from the eyes that don’t believe.
I hope I will prevail, to save this burning kingdom of mine,
Hope I don’t get eaten by a dragon of the mind.

Here I was, in my lowest point.
Already broken, hurt and destroyed.
I try to fight back the urge that I feel,
To break all the glass that I see,
And paint it in red as I bleed.
I’m trying my best, to keep it together,
To not break again and let the demons enter.
I pinned my hope, on your little head,
Trying to stay here, till my merry end…
Nowhere to go, as my screams echo…
I sit here, in front of a mirror,
Thinking out loud, writing a letter.
Do you know what I see?
Apart from living flesh?
A useless image, with lots of regrets…
I waited for something, for words that can heal,
For that stupid phrase that you believe.
“It will get better, you just got to push through.”
Though now I realize, I disappointed you.
The small things, they matter,
The details to the painting, they make it better.
I wonder how brave, I will become…
Will I say goodbye when I’m done?
Will my words ever reach your ears?
Or will this just end with more tears…?

You.
I tripped over.
You.
I felt in my heart.
You.
I started to love.
You.
Made me complete.
You.
Made things stop bleed.
You.
Made me jump over walls.
You.
Pushed mountains to make things stop.

Now time passed and everything changed,
The distance, the difference the things in my brain.
They changed both of us, after one year together.

You.
Are the person, I won’t get over in forever.

I sat in the closest park to my ****** neighborhood,
It had few benches, some grass and I think roses too…
It was fairly boring really, close to the road…
It had few ducks in the pond that stopped to grow…
People said it was so beautiful, so full of life,
I only saw the dying of any kind of light.
I remember once, I saw a couple there,
They were old, ancient, yet they sat there…
On an old rusty bench that started to smell,
They sat there, told each other of times they shared.
When their skin was not dry and the lights hadn’t died,
When the trees were just blooming and the ducks still grooming.
When their hears were still young and barely touched,
That’s when they said of how much they loved.
I smiled at them, knowing I was once again wrong.
The park wasn’t that terrible as I have told.

I wish was someone else, nothing like me,
Not so soft, so gullible and sweet.
I wish I could not feel, the harsh winds of life,
To not hear everyone’s words at night…

I wish I was strong with thick skin,
Big muscles, strong opinions and white teeth…
Instead I cry at every movie I see
And cuddle a pillow to fall asleep…

I don’t have social skills, because of stupid fears,
I can’t help that social interactions give scars.
Every single word travels to heart,
Where it leaves a big and nasty mark.

Why would God give all this baggage?
To feel and be in pain for a ticket to heaven.
I hate being soft, but I’m sure I’ll get through,
One way or another, I hope it’s with you.

I sat there in the washing room,
The cold material the sink was made from, touching my skin,
I shivered, looking down at my arm, so disgusting and fat…
The bone itself rotting, the skin pale and forgotten.
I would want to blame every single mistake on you,
Say that you lead me here because that’s what you do.
Make me feel like I’m on top of the world, then just make me fall…
Why did you do that? Why did you make me believe?
That there was a chance to love and end up cuddling?
Why were you, in my eyes so perfect and pure?
So ******* amazing, so talented, so tall…
I looked in the mirror, to only see pain,
To see where the dried tears, ended up in vain.
You see those eye bags? They disgust me so much,
I barely sleep not, I think I started to rust…
So broken, yet fixable, but you threw me away…
I was not good enough or simple or just too insane…
I looked at my arm, so disgusting and fat,
But I am sure the red stream will fix that.

As the mist settled in,
Covering the tall apartment buildings,
In a thick cloth of mystery and fear,
I wandered the streets, gazing towards the sky.
The few gleaming stars, guiding my path,
And I felt like Galileo, discovering something new,
Seeing something different than everyone else did.
My naked feet touching the cold pavements,
Shivering to the metallic and abandoned feeling,
Only stars and a slowly falling moon lighting my way…
My hand met yours, our fingers intertwined,
Sharing this moment together, still and yet ever-flowing…
One moment captured in time, still and pure,
Hanging about in my memory as I walk in the morning breeze,
The mist had now melted with the ground,
The moon replaced by the rising sun and the stars with clouds,
Forming shapes that no one truly appreciated.
I couldn’t feel the cold pavement anymore,
As shoes covered my feet, as if a wall between worlds,
No more stars to follow, only signs and walked paths…
I passed by you several times, but you didn’t notice.
Most likely starring at something else or maybe I wasn’t your special moment,
The moment that you cherished and remembered…
I walked such paths for hours, trying to linger somewhere,
Attach myself to someone or something,
Yet I am never anyone’s secret moment, no one’s stop in time,
No one looks at me like a child looks at the stars,
Nor will anyone feel happy like Galileo who wandered the heavens…
I continued to walk towards my destination,
Getting lost in the oceans of people that I could not navigate…

Murderer

I am a liar, you know?
I lie constantly.
Every single word, though tasting of honey,
Is foul in its pure nature.
Even with the sweetest words,
I am repeatedly deceiving you.

I hate lying to friends.
But I fear of those friends,
Suddenly becoming acquittances
And I would be left to drift into nothing
Swallowed by my own mouth.

Hello! I’m a compulsive liar.
Yes. Compulsive to a point,
Where I shall lie not just for survival,
But for safety, comfort and joy.
But you won’t even know,
Mainly because I already started lying.

Even my hello is probably laced with something,
Poison that makes me cough up my heart,
Filling my lungs with words I regret.
But we are still friends!
And that is good. Even though…
I could be lying about that too.

Lies don’t even have beginnings or endings.
They are eternal and ever-flavourful!
Sitting in my stomach as if a parasite,
Dining on my ability to smile and not feel it,
Say things that I didn’t really mean it,
And yet. You don’t see it.

Maybe for the best!
Because if my mouth spilled the truth,
That I keep closed with my teeth,
You might think you didn’t know me.
The ME that never stopped lying,
With the fear to lose all.

It’s hard to lie about a ******.
To commit such a foul crime,
On someone I knew best – myself.
But I cover it up well,
With few jokes about rainbows
And talks of girls and bars.

I don’t need much, I really don’t,
I survived and been well on so much less.
But now that I tasted, a small bit of it,
Could you give all you’ve got, be my everything?
I want you to ask me, how I am today,
You know the answer well but just ask for the hell of it.
I really want you, to say something nice,
Something sweet to make it all right.
Do you mind, me sitting quietly right there?
Where you can hear me breath and sniffle the air.
But do you know, that on the other side, I am not okay…
I am crying and breaking and simply fading away?
I sat there crying, saying be right back…
Can you just ask me, why I act like that?

I got off the bus near the school I used to go to,
It’s dark and run-down walls, now made perfect,
Painted as a woman, right before a night out.
I put my hands in my large coat pockets,
Strutting through the school front courtyard,
Noticing the parents picking up their sunshine’s.
She stood there, in her worn-down clothes,
With large bags under her eyes,
Her one knee buckled, her one hand on her cane.
She stood there, waiting for her little boy.
He came running to her side, with his messy blond hair,
A large, compassionate smile, carrying the wonder of a child…
I saw them exchange their admiration,
Her hand cupping his chin, asking about his day,
Yet the boy only hugged her and frowned,
Keeping his heavy bag on his right shoulder,
Making him lean slightly to the right like the tower of Pisa…
The woman, her hand stroking the young boy’s cheek,
Looked worried and distressed, quickly muttering:
“Smile Henry…Why don’t you ever smile?”
And she smiled to show him how,
But it was the saddest smile he had ever seen…
He knew though. He knew how much that smile meant,
For that smile was the only reassurance that everything is alright,
That smile would make her forget her fears,
Her regrets and her failures, for that smile held her world…
He forced himself to smile, his muscles already aching,
As he tries to forget the bullies and narcissists.
They walked their way home, her movement slow and painful,
With every step she would let out a grunt and then a sigh,
Which let out all the weight from her lungs,
Only for her to breathe it back in as she stumbles.
She quickly reaches to his bag, taking it by the straps,
Smiling and throwing it on her shoulder.
The boy tries to say something, but she only smiles.
The boy knew though. Knew how much that meant to her.
For her to feel like she hadn’t abandoned him,
For her to feel needed and for her to validate herself.
And even though it pained him to see her like this,
He continued to smile and talk,
Just to forget that his world, is in her smile.

All I wanted, was to hear “Don’t!”
But you instead wished me good luck.

I don’t believe in fancy words,
In promises that it won’t hurt.
I don’t believe I’m good enough,
Or even slightly above the stupid bunch.
I don’t believe in your okay’s
Or all the times you said it’ll turn out great.
I don’t believe in my ability to speak,
To make others understand and feel.
I don’t believe in a happy ending,
Because I live in envy and hate.
I don’t believe that I will ever be just okay.
But somehow I found a bigger idiot than me,
Who for some reason started to believe
I don’t know what, you see in me.
But be sure I’m glad, that you believe in me.

If I ever have a son,
I will insist on him calling me Plan B.
Knowing that if everything else fails,
He can always look to me.
And he will know,
That no matter what,
I will stand by his side,
With my hand on his shoulder,
Tightly holding him in place
And forever grounding him to earth.
I will paint the entire solar system on his hand,
So, he can always find his way back home.
And I will teach him that life will hit hard.
Life will punch you in the face,
Uppercut you in the jaw,
Not wait for you to stand up
Before kicking you in the stomach.
But getting the wind knocked out of you,
Is the only way for your lungs to understand
How much they like breathing.
I will teach my son to not build walls,
Not raise his fist in defiance to opportunity,
But to spread his arms and be ready,
Ready for the pain, the suffering,
All the misery that will fall into his arms,
Leaving blisters and agony on them
But with all that, he will catch beauty.
Beauty of the seasons,
Of leaves falling and twirling in the sunlight,
The beauty in laughter and smiles,
The understanding that all bad serves purpose,
It’s there for us to see the light.
The light that I will shine to him
So, he can always find the right thing to do.
If I ever have a son,
I will make sure that I am there,
When he realizes that superman isn’t coming,
I will make sure he knows,
That he doesn’t have to wear a cape by himself,
That no matter how far he stretches his fingers,
He won’t catch every single problem in his hands.
And that no matter what, I will wait for him to come home,
Having cookies and a raincoat ready for him,
Because there is nothing a cookie can’t solve.
And for those problems that he cannot solve with sweets,
I will put the raincoat on his shoulders and let the rain wash away,
The tears, the sadness and stress,
Leaving only the formations of clouds,
A rainbow and the glistening road to success.
If I ever have a son,
I will tell him what my ancestors taught me,
To be a rainbow in someone else’s cloud,
To shine and smile with all the heart he can muster.
And whenever he will raise his nose up in the air,
I will look at him and tell him clearly:
“I know that look, I know what you are smelling for,
Only smelling the smoke of a burning house,
That you will check and find those that lost their home to save them,
And if not that, you will find the person that caused the flame
And do everything you can to change them.”
I know he will do so anyway,
No matter what I tell him,
And I will only wait with blankets and chocolate.
I will tell him, my son,
“No baby. There are things,
That love, and words won’t heal nor mend,
Believe me I tried.”
But I know he will smile and continue as is,
Having the heart to carry on,
To soak in life to the fullest.
If I ever have a son,
He will be the star in starting over,
The wave in the ocean of life,
The sprinkle of sunshine on someone else’s cake.
If I ever have a son,
He will stand tall and proud,
Knowing that nothing is impossible,
That his mind and his will
Are the tools that he will use to climb
To climb the stumps, the hills and mountains,
He will reach for the skies and jump whenever he can,
Knowing that his story is his own.
If I have a son,
When the land will call to me,
And most will have forgotten my name,
He will place a hand on my shoulder,
Grip it tightly and tell me:
“Don’t worry father. I will always have your back.”

Dorothy once said:
“There’s no place like home!”
Where family waits, where we don’t feel alone.
Maybe she’s right,
On the subject at hand,
Yet I feel out of touch, too naïve too understand.
I remember the monsters,
Under my bed.
No comfort, protection, bad ideas in my head.
My guardian angel,
Cold and upset.
She now nods to the one, who carries my regrets.
No tornado, no monkeys,
No witches with brooms.
It’s just me in my home, dining with the king that rules.

I run barefoot right to your door,
The air so sweet, I gulp and gasp for more,
My heart filled with flowers of gold,
Tickling my lungs with butterflies so pure…
I jump and dance, over the ponds on your sidewalk,
Laugh and sing of feelings I had for a lifetime,
My head feels like it’s about to pop off,
Hoping to tell the three words I had learned…
You greet me with a smile and nod,
No feel of affection or closeness at all…
You say “Evenin’” and greet me inside,
I stand barefoot and flustered then let out a sigh.
I try to speak but you just lay on the couch,
Looking at the ceiling and having no doubt,
You know you won’t dance with me in the night,
Nor will ours hearts will be intertwined.
I still laugh and tell you my tale,
Of how I learned the three words and yelled:
“I love you!” Now silence was still,
Buzzing in my ears and you finally stand straight,
You smile and nod, formal and just,
You pat my back and give me a tug,
You lead me outside and wish a good night,
I never felt so cold in my life.