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Old man speaks
What an old man sees siting
A young man can't see climbing a tree
Why being porous
Why the violence
Why the ignorance and corruption
Why are there evil hearts
Ours was generation of love and peace

Young man laughing
We would rather cut down d tree
It feels good to be porous
Why not violence
Why not pain
why not corruption
Why won't we have evil hearts
Ours is a generation of Give and take

Fetus in the womb kicks
What are u leaving for our generation
More pain and anguish
More violence and corruption
but one thing is significant
we will fight for peace
We will create love amongs us
Ours is a generation of HOPE
Four sight!
 Apr 2014 Honeydrops
Victoria
I run
I hide
From sea to border
To find, to hide
From a life out of order
The tides that bind
The likes of mind
Music
Laughs
Passion and such
Are only what we have in common,
Not much
But I run
I hide
From sea to border
To escape you
..Get my life in order
 Apr 2014 Honeydrops
dafne
rooted
 Apr 2014 Honeydrops
dafne
you are a tree
trees are so utterly unique and shaken by the wind
yet strong and rooted

trees do rot
but before that comes
millions of seasons

winter, where you are dying and everything seems to fall apart,
and your tears shed like leaves fall
spring, where delicate flowers peek out of unexpected places
and your laugh blooms like tulips
summer, where things are mediocre and there comes a bit of rain
and your heart feels moderate, like the temperatures
and autumn, where leaves turn gorgeous colors and so do you

it seems you've been through winter
and maybe you're still there
I hope you get your spring and autumn
remember there's summer in between

remember to stay rooted,
beautiful things are yet to come.
dedicated to Nicole and those who feel like giving up
Hurling insults, trading blows,
These are the evenings I hate the most,
Let’s paint a smile for the world,
Paper over freshly wounded words.
And I sit on my bed,
The bleeding knight,
Stifling my sobs,
Because they’re don’t deserve
To hear my shame,
That I backed down once again.
I let go of what I believed,
Lost hold of what I seek,
Forgot what I’d found.
We don’t agree,
That is clear.
But why must I always be,
The one to bow?
One day, soon, not soon enough,
I’ll turn the tables,
But for now I turn away,
I hide my sorrow.
I can not look at myself,
(did you not know?)
In a mirror,
When all I see,
Is my mother’s looks,
And betrayal and hate,
Hacked into my four year old self’s face.
And why must it be,
Because you come from the generation,
Where for me to speak my mind is a crime.
Where my desire to be seen,
As equal to my brother, a joke.
And where my feelings,
Are simply empty words,
Silken cobwebs in autumn frost,
Easily brushed aside.
Had I been born a boy,
I do not think I’d have this problem.
But it does not do well to dwell on,
If’s and could haves.
I can not escape,
I am trapped,
I bolt to my hole,
Like a frightened rabbit,
But the ferret it is in my home.
Where could I go that they would not follow?
When even society itself,
Is fighting against me.
Passive aggressive.
Constantly tripping me,
Telling me how,
I should dress and act and think.
And when Victims of ****
“Deserve what they got,
For wearing a skirt too short”
And a family man,
With two kids,
Is beaten to death
Because the person he loved,
Happened to be a man too.
When young black men,
Are stopped and searched for no reason,
Other than they “look suspicious”
By a white police officer.
When people vanish,
And no one cares,
Because biology and society told them one gender,
And their mind another,
How do I stand a chance?
I actually feel pity for my parents,
It’s not their fault that
Society told them to live a certain way.
But something is their fault,
Because after all,
They’re the ones who chose to
Blindly obey.
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