The eraser erased my bad habits
While the pencil drew in new ones
The glue stick glued on a whole new face
As the scissors cut away my background and past
The ball point pen then made the changes permanent
While the colored pencils shaded in my body
The calculator changed my way of thinking
As the sharpener grazed over my rough edges
Finally, the ruler
I had to measure up to your standards
Now me and you
We walk, talk and think the same
Two moving as one
I don't even know who I've become
What I was before
You've changed me more than you'll ever know

I am one of many
Small branches of a broken tree
Always looking to the ones above
For guidance, strength and security.
One little branch trying
To keep the others from breaking away
Who will fall?
And who will stay?
Now I stand alone
Looking at the earth through the rain
And I see the broken branches I knew
Scattered about me in pain.
There are those who have taken an axe
To the root of our very foundation
And who have passed this destruction
Down to every new generation.
If I could take that axe
I would toss it deep into the sea
Never to return again
To harm the generations that follow me.
I am one of many
But alone I will go
And plant the new seeds
Where a beautiful tree will grow.

I saw her during recess

And then again at lunch

I kinda liked to tease her

I'd always dodge her punch

I said I didn't like her

But it really wasn't true

I liked to be around her

Without her I was confused

Then at lunch we'd sit together

With our lunches made

From our broken families

**** I miss first grade

I sit in the floor.
My knees hugging my chest.
Everything masked by a thick fog.
My body covered in a second skin.
My head held under,
My hair dripping,
My mind buzzing.

But all I hear is the sound...
The sound of rushing water.

You look like your mother, they said
To be like her, I'd rather be dead
What mother you know would abandon her kids
Weeks at a time and leave no food there
A trifling mom who didn't seem to care
You was too high to realize that it would affect me over the years
Thought I'd be fine but for many nights shed tears
Having to move from place to place with different relatives
Living with them was a dead giveaway
When you took your love away it felt like God closed a door that day
Over the years I've endured so much pain
Even when the sun was shining mine was filled with rain
You left a scar on my heart that will always remain
I know this may sound crazy, ludicrous, or even insane
If you haven't been through this you haven't felt my pain
Try losing your mother and think your life would remain the same
Well I guess you know now what it's like to have no mom
You lost yours in '97; I lost mine in '85
I bet you were hurt being you just lost your love
But you see you knew your mom; I didn't know who mine was
Maybe you're the reason why I am the way I am today
Hardheaded, stubborn, and don't listen to what people say
I can't stand you, mom, and it shouldn't be this way
Don't worry if not now one day you'll have to pay
I just hope one day I can explain this to my kids
How you were a good for nothing mom and you were never really there.

People often say to me “I wish I could write like you.”
Which to some degree I should find humbling
But if only they knew the truth
That every time I touch the pen I'm afraid of what it might do
Behind the guise of self expression it takes possession
All defenses are torn a sunder in pain under its reign
And I am helpless to stop it
Like I would, even if I could anyway
Each tear in me is subject to its tyranny
I watch every sunset fearfully
As the veil of darkness falls
So do the castle walls
It is then that the pen will begin to possess me again
Coercing confessions of sin
However, as much I hate it
I abhor I love it more
I concede that I need it
There is a stink of distinction
Between me and this ink pen
Yet still somewhat synonymous
Whatever I hide under the surface
Determines its purpose
And it always serves it
Even if it hurts when
I bleed through this pen.

WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HOW SCARED SHE IS. WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HOW SHE WATCHES THE WAY SHE WALKS, BECAUSE THE LAST TIME SHE FELL IN LOVE, SHE HIT THE GROUND. AND SHE WOULD OFFER HIM HER HEART BUT IT'S BEEN EATEN AT AND STORED IN A DOGGY BAG AROUND A CORNER WITHIN HER CHEST - AND SHE CANNOT HELP BUT ALWAYS FEEL LEFTOVER. WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THAT SHE'S SCARED OF FEELING.
BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FEEL HER BACK.