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In mind of the situation
Of the darkness held within
Let me help you with your breathing
Inhaling grains of sand

Standing over the trapdoor
Hidden hands grasping  the cord
Giving it another tightened yank
With the loosening of the floor

There's an echo in the chamber
Hello...is anyone home
Did you read all the disclaimers
That have left you here alone

A cold wind blows the book open to a blank page
Where there are no words to explain
The emptiness of the blank days
As shoes with no socks splash puddles of rain

Grabbing the ledge with all of your might
Feeling gravity's pull
On the edge of nowhere in sight
Giving into the scream as it lets itself loose
I never liked my name very much until I tasted it on your tongue.
Can you see that it's time
With no watch on your arm
Is there hope to survive
If you've done bought the farm
When all things feel right
Does the moment just flow

How can a man say
What he doesn't know


If your neck deep in the stream
Shouldn't you know how to swim
If there's truth in the ring
Should you step out and give in
Do all mountain tops
Come with a *****

How can a man reach the heights
If his life view is low


Are you late to the central
In Eastern time
If it's really that simple
Then why's it so hard to find
Have you often faltered
Where you've clearly been

How can a man love
If he's never let in


If your deep in the dream
Can you be what you want to be
If your dream was a train
Would it run out of steam
Could you hold onto the promise
If the words aren't there to lend

**How can a man start over
Once he's reached his end
The only thing they found under the bed,
were unmatched socks and worn out comics.
The real terrors that waited for me,
Hid inside my mind,
Somewhere between regret and worry.

Desperate to drift to sleep
I'd meet the monster inside.
He wouldn't try to attack,
He'd grin and I'd grin back,
We were the same after all.
There are no pictures of the forgotten child
just second hand memories
of a police station handmedown
and too many mothers.

There are no echoes of my smile to be found in family albums

No book to lovingly hold the dates of firsts unwitnessed by love.

Yellowed paper bears witness to my existence, a name given, typed above that of an unknown Father and a mother too new to bear my needs.

There are no tales of first days and birthdays, no tears of joy at my arrival, nor at my loss.
Just me, a girl with no past and a stolen future, screaming at shadows while clutching at straws, hoping that someday my face will be reflected by that which I did not create.
Events happen
Memories don't always fades.
History occurs.
For the histories books to reserve.

Officers, fire fighters and various peoples of society.
Might be gone.
But the occurrence of that day lives on.

They are gone.
Except not forgotten.
Cause the flags still flies in the greatest country alive.

Ministers preaches about its demise.
As if they are present day prophets.
And still we exist.

With the best trained military forces.
Yes, they are gone.
Except not forgotten.

We all know justice comes within time.
Love makes you
Love elliminates hate
Love builds acceptance
Love creates understanding
Love increases one's will to live
Love makes the world go round
Love brings the good out in people
Love inspires you to do the best you can
Love encourages you to achieve all you want
Love holds you up when others may pull you down
Love buys you all the things you want from our universe

Never forget the power of what sharing love may do for another.
It may just change someone's life.
With regards to Thomas Sayers Ellis*

Look at the
    Lucent lava lamps,
Dark craters
    Hiring hands.
We walked,
    Mimicking magma.
Hot, why is
    This heat?
Forget Vulcan
    And his illusion
Of kaleidoscopes,
    A rip tide
On the shore
    Of our conscious minds.
We held fire,
    Pretending to swim
Underground,
    But only out
Of pure respect.
    Some had boots
Made with
    The clippings
Of funky tripwire,
    Others wore suits
With goggles
    Clamped to their faces,
Gripping like
    Bay Area earthquakes.
One-by-one,
    Jang-strangs were
Attached to us and
    Hurled into the Pit
With rhythmic rituals,
    Waves of S and P
Flailed away
    Like flags.
One nation
    Under a new.
No one looked away
    From the fiery daze.
No one wept.
If it was up to me,
I’d sing your name
As my mother tongue.
Let the sweet melody
Echo through the ears
Of old and young.

If it was up to me,
My national flag
Would be your hair.
My hand on my heart
Mumbling the anthem when
It waves through the air.

If It was up to me,
You’d stop the cursed wars
With a smile or a wink.
All the fighting cease and
The red soaked ground
Will turn into flowery pink.

If it was up to me,
The golden eyes are
The sun at noon.
Eyeliner is dusk.
And when they shut,
Here comes the moon.

If it was up to me,
You’d be the trees
The oceans, stars & clouds.
Cold summer breeze
Hitting the bale faces
Of the worshiping crowds.

If it was up to me,
You’d be the books,
Butterflies, cities & art.
Brushes of love, desire,
Madness and dreams
On my blank heart.

If it was up to me,
You’d be my miracle,
My water and wine.
The one and only wish
Of this life is that
You would be mine.
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