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 Aug 2014 Joy Zellers
Jonny Angel
She poured them out,
wasted them in torrents
to show me how much she cared.
But I will never forget
the sound of her sobs
as I walked away,
to get out of the pain
of leaving her,
her acid rain
forever.
 Aug 2014 Joy Zellers
Kevin
I promised you big things.
I promised you a life.
I promised that I'd fight for you
as long as I loved you.
Despite knowing that it was a battle
I could not win,
I still wanted to show you
that you were worth all of the tears
and heartache.
Even when you left, I kept promising.

But I can't do it any more.
I'm worn out.
Maybe even broken.
I'm putting my weapon down
and leaving you in his arms.
I'm sorry.

*Goodbye.
 Aug 2014 Joy Zellers
Aver
she spent so much time looking in the mirror
that she forgot what she looked like
I never did learn to meditate.
I couldn't clear the mind of cluttered thoughts.
Dark, disturbing, anxious, irritating--
They know no boundaries...
What? You're trying to calm your mind
Of earthy thoughts, temporal things,
Ha! I'll be certain you can't.

And you heave and shudder and pant
I tend to squirm from the sound and blinking lights
Oh heavens--
Why can't I reach you?
You failed. You lost. You're in trouble. You're worthless.
You're soon to die
--
And on and on, the voices pry
If I can meditate, I'll clear my mind
Unlock my creative potential
Solve the problems that otherwise have me wish to die

But yet, in the seeking
Of steady thoughts, insight, removal left
I've only acquired
Dark thoughts inspired...
By jostled calm,
Failed meditation.
What truly is the definition of righteousness?
Is it determined by act or by mind?

They say a good man fights for justice, peace, and prosperity.
But then, can a man of such moral truly remain so
if he turns to violence as an answer?
Does his intent to create marvels render him of moral status
though his methods may empower death and promote war?
Oh, this man is peaceful himself,
taking letters instead of bullets to battle
but his lyrics dislodge society in a manner not all approve
and so begins combat.
Can this soul carry such holy title,
if the repercussions of his strung together words are strung up necks?

Or is the good man the one who turns away from the world's fight
to be his own embodiment of ethical beauty?
For the one who remains silent causes no direct pain;
he himself is passive and tranquil
and moves to inspire such conduct in others without commanding it.
But his silence encourages fierce vehemency and wildness.
Does this fact not taint his name?

The first man had pure intent,
but with his tongue he spit sparks
which others used to ignite a fire and burn the world.
The second did not fight himself
but his chosen hush could never end the blood rain,
and so his lack of sharp verbosity allowed knives to flash and blood to spill.

So I will ask again,
what determines morality?
Though this time with a grounding response;
morals define morality.

Each man's mind renders his own flawless ideal individually,
and so one's perfection will always be another's monstrosity.
In truth? There are no good men,
or at least not one to all.
Inspired by the Doctor Who quote, "Demons run when a good man goes to war". I was very curious on the definition of a 'good man' (or rather human, because sexism is a no).
Crying does not mean you are weak;
it means you have remained so strong
for far too long.

It means you have sacrificed your life
to ensure others live their's,
and it means you have put yourself forward
to protect their Earth rather than conserve your world.

It means you have kept your promised silence
that hush a friend dared to ask,
and it means you welcomed the weight
when your shoulders were soaked with drenching salt.

It means you have been sympathetic,
firmly standing your ground to defend friends,
and it means you forced yourself into exile
when your effect seemed more demonic than caring.

It means you threw your entertainment aside
to keep a little brother company as he chases fireflies,
and it means you disregarded candle wishes
as an older sister licked frosting numbering a younger year.

It means you chose to be the person everyone wanted to have
but no one wanted to be.
I write to convey purpose and meaning
Or for honor (or any notice) to gleam on myself
The prolific of all writers
Had hardly such in their motivation

They wrote in their sorrow,
In the blackness of the night
They wrote not for their revered name—
But for what they truly found *right
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