This blade I use
As my paint brush,
My arm as my canvas;
Pale and innocent,
Save for scars from another time.

They will be joined,
Together,
In yet another
Beautiful, red painting.

My wrist, the white horizon
In the background.

If birth control pills could give a buzz
"Unwanted" pregnancy would no longer be a
Problem

They said blacks came from monkeys but whites have monkey lips
If blacks came from monkeys wouldn’t blacks have monkey lips?
Many didn’t know that the first Statue of Liberty was black
Many didn’t know that the person who invented the lightbulb was black
The first civilization documented in history was black
Whites knew how powerful Africans were that’s why they enslaved blacks

Home is where the heart is.

Home is where Taiwanese people
Hock their wares at the top of their lungs
As you're pressed on every side
By the crush of people filling the lanes
Of the night market.

Home is where crazy San Franciscians
Roam the hills in shorts with jackets in hand
In case the fickle Weather changes his mind
Or they wander too far west
Into the land of perpetual fog and mist.

Home is wherever you are.
Or at least that's what home used to be.
But since you've gone away,
My heart is a thousand pieces.

Home needs a whole heart.
And mine isn't anymore.
So every day I'm homesick
For a place that will never be.

Home is now just in my memories.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.

When my father died
For the third time,
He left behind a backpack

It was dusty and black in the back
Of my mother’s black trunk
It stunk
Of cigarettes, desperation,and neglect
For weeks I had stared at it
Not daring to touch it
Not daring to feel his absence

But today was no ordinary day
Today I felt brave
Today I picked up that old backpack, opened it, and reached inside
My hands stumbled on: old papers,
Wrinkled and adorned with coffee stains,
A rusty kitchen knife,
An unopened package of red pills

I searched and searched that old, dusty, sack—
My eyes skimmed over the  scribble scrabble written upon the papers
My fingertips ran across the dirt-caked
T-shirts
I searched and searched that old, dusty sack
for an “I love her”
for an “I’m sorry”
for a “I tried to call her back”

But I found in that old sack
Useless items that don’t love me back

I looked at that sack,
and it looked at me back,
And I tossed that old sack
without looking back
Cause’ neither did he.