Jump.
'I won't'
Jump.
'I shouldnt'
Jump.
'They'd miss me'
Jump!

Crack.

My brain just keeps going.
I always try to sleep.
For if I'm awake,
I fear my brain will make me disappear.

Freshman year:
"Creepy-Crusty Freshman"
We thought we had it together,
but everyone else knew.
We were just beginning,
We were separate, naive and secluded.

Sophomore year:
Forgotten students.
Not ready for college
Yet not a new baby to coddle,
We were simple floating and following the beaten path.

Junior Year:
Most stressful endeavors
ACTs, SATs, AP tests
Do good they said,
Prepare for senior year,
"It goes by fast"
So do this and do that, but don't do that.

Senior Year:
Apply for colleges!
Don't be late! Meet the deadlines!
Senioritis.
We wanted it to go by fast and they said it would, and it did.
So fast that our last day was March 16th
Instead of May 22nd
We had no idea that we would never say a proper goodbye,
that we would never throw our caps to fly high,
that we would never dance to tacky music for the last time at our 'senior prom'
We had no idea what senior year would be.
But we now know what it was not.
It was not easy
not simple or complete,
straight-forward or whole,
Not ordinary and certainly not fair.

2020 Seniors did not get a senior year.
We did not get open houses for the masses,
Or graduation with peers from our classes.

In kindergarten we were told to stand tall and speak up, and chin up. Make friends because they'll be with you your whole school life. One day you will cross the stage with them.

But senior year we were told to be quiet, wear a mask. Stay inside, don't say goodbye, good luck on your own. You'll graduate alone.

"You signed up for this."
"You knew what you were getting into."
"You knew it was going to be hard.
So stop crying."

It is easier said than done.
When half my heart is gone.

Free since 1776.
If you're a white man.
Land of the free
And home of the brave.
Black men and women property until 1868.
White Women silenced until 1920.
African Americans silenced further until 1970.
White men free since 1776.

Land of the free.
So free kids can bring weapons to school.
So free that black kids are shot for NOT holding a weapon.
So free that women can't make medical decisions without white men's approval.
So free that people couldn't marry who they wanted until 2015.
White straight men free since 1776.

We've only got one thing right:
Home of the brave.
Brave enough to continue to fight for a corrupt country.
Brave enough to fight for basic human rights.
Brave enough to stand up for what is right.
Even when the cost is their life, your life, my life.

I know I am.
For ignoring, for forgetting.
For not caring.
I'm sorry.

I'm just fighting to survive.
It's hard to wake up.
It's hard to sleep.
I know it's selfish, but I have to focus on surviving.

A few days ago it was your birthday
I was okay until I saw your comment,
On my post for you
2
3
4 years ago.
So long yet it hurts still
Like it was yesterday.
People used to always say,
It'll  be okay,
It'll get better.
I believe but not today.
Not on your birthday.
On your birthday I'm not okay,
I won't pretend
I won't say I am.
On your birthday, I just want to sit.
I want to cry.
Because no matter how old you grow
Or the experience you sow,
It hurts.
To lose someone.
Someone so close.
Old or young,
Neither fun.
I wish you could be here.
We got you a cake,
Your name written beautifully on it,
But you can't see it,
Or eat it.
So here's to you,
For teaching me so much,
Teaching me to be tough.
For just your birthday,
I won't be tough,
I won't be okay

Then
Luscious and green
Pine, oak, maple, and more
The best ever seen
Lilacs, sunflowers, and daisies galore

Beautiful


Now
Pollute, Pollute and Pollute some more
Baby turtles dying
Because of man-made stores
Consumers still buying

Corrupt

What do you see when you look?
Do you base on race?

If you were white,
Would you be a *****?
If you were black,
Would you immediately be a criminal?
If you were asain,
Would you be a genius?
If you were Mexican,
Would your family be large?

Or do you see religion?

If you're muslim,
Are you a terrorist?
If you're Catholic,
Are you stuck up?
If you're Jewish,
Are you greedy?
If you're Baptist,
Are you a hypocrite?

Rather then that is the first thing you see gender or age?

Say you're a woman,
Would you be weak?
Say you're a man,
Would you be the boss?
Say you're young,
Would you be dumb?
Say you're old,
Would you be wise?

Or maybe academics are key?

If you wear glasses,
Does that make you nerdy?
If you are "preppy"
Does that make you mean?
If you play football,
Does that make you a leader?
If you're a cheerleader,
Does that make you a follower?

If you were smart,
Does that mean you are bullied?
If you are dumb,
Does that make you popular?
If you were always loud,
Does that make you ignorant?
If you're always quiet,
Does it make you emo?

So if you use a scholarship,
Does that make you poor?
So you don't use a scholarship,
Does that make you spoiled?
Maybe you go to a private school,
Then are you a snob?
Maybe you go to public school,
Then are you a hoodrat?

Maybe it's appearance first noticed but what does that say?

Cause if you arent a size 0,
Does that make you ugly?
If you aren't big enough,
Does that make you unhealthy??
If you weren't muscular,
Does that make you scrawny?
If you're muscular,
Does that mean you're trying too hard?

So you've got blond hair,
But does that mean you're stupid?
Or maybe red hair,
Does that mean youre quick to lose your temper?
If you wear makeup,
Does that mean you're hiding?
If you don't wear makeup,
Does that mean you're boring?
If you care what other think,
Are you self conscious?
If you don't care what others think,
Are you conceited?

What about....
What about if you were just you?
Would you be the same?
Would you be seen differently?
These things shouldn't matter.
But they do.
Oh so much
First impressions are most important
But oh so tough.

Why are you based on what you look like,
Or what you believe.
Why are you based on your gender,
Or how you do in school?

Judgements shouldn't be made,
But they are every single day.
In every single way.
But these things don't define you,
They don't explain you nor I.

We all bleed the same,
We see the same.
So why?

It doesn't matter if you're black or if your white.
It doesn't matter if you're Catholic or Muslim.
It doesn't matter if your skin is wrinkled or tight.
It doesn't matter if you're a woman or a man,
And it doesn't matter what size you wear.

Undoubtfully Beautiful and so Painfully Fleeting.

I've never wanted to die.
But I don't want to continue this life.
Not when this life is barely surviving.
A life of just surviving isn't living.
So if I'm not living, am I already dead?

Heart ache and Heart break
Are they the same?
Some say God only knows.
I know.

Heart ache is loving someone
Someone untouchable.
Heartache is yearning for someone you can't have.
Desiring their touch
Their voice
Their love
And being alone.

Yet heart break
Heartbreak is having something so good
And losing it in an instant.
Heartbreak is loving to end of the world
Only to be turned down.
Only to be laughed at
Stomped on
Pitied.

Heart ache and heart break
Both hurt so bad,
Yet heartache is okay
But heartbreak will leave you forever sad.

A poet once said:
grief is the overflowing of love.
I didn't believe her then.

But now as I pour my love,
In to your tea cup heart,
It overflows.

Pints... no,
Gallons.
Gallons of my love onto the floor.
It goes unnoticed,
Because your cup is full.

I wish I could give you all my love.
I wish you could accept it.
I wish it didn't hurt to watch it overflow.
I wish above all,
I knew how to stop pouring.

I love seeing happy.
The way eyes light up with joy and smiles spread.
The feeling of weightlessness and comfortable warmth.
I just wish I could see it on me.
I vie to feel that feeling once again.

I impatiently wait for the break of Dawn
For I fear someone will drop a bomb
And when morning comes they will awake
And then the world will begin to crumble & flake
The government will fall
and when the New Order Stands Tall
adaptation will be a must
Forget "in God we trust"
When they threw values in the trash
Life as we knew it changed in a flash
Forget about the Holocaust
Under their words, ALL humanity is lost
And anyone who decides to protest
Will be put to death.... At best
I sign as a whole
For the government has taken its toll

December 23, 2023

Who needs therapy?
Not me.
Not when writing is free.

I'm sorry.
If it hurts you when I say
I don't want to be alive.
Or
I want to die.
I'm sorry if it hurts you.


I'm sorry if it hurts you.
But I'm more sorry that I don't care how much it does.
I can only focus on surviving my own hurt.

My heart is beating in my chest.
In my head.
In my fingertips.
My tummy is cramping and the pillow is making noise.

I can't get the pillow to keep quiet,
I can't keep my head from pounding with the thumping of my heart.
The porch light sears it's way through the blinds and blackout curtains.
Snores surround me from my partners.

But I can't get the pillow to keep quiet.
I push my head harder into the bed.
But the throbbing of my heart travels to my toes.
Why is my heart so loud?
Why is the light so bright?
Why won't the pillow keep quiet?
I'm tired.

I wish I could tell you,
Just how tired I am.
But the word tired is not strong enough.
Exhaustion would make it sound as if I had been running marathons.
Yet even sitting in my room all day,
I am exhausted by noon.

The moment I awake in the morning
With the sun rising, the warmth on my skin
and butterflies flying, birds chirping away the day.
As soon as I open my eyes to the trees in view,
I am tired again.

I can sleep all night and never make a sound.
I could sleep like a rock, and still.
I am so tired.

I am tired when I am alone
and I am drained when I am not.
I am tired of fighting myself all day long.
I am tired of being tired.

Even though I want to say hello,
I am too tired to engage.
I am too tired to stand up for myself,
or interject to correct.
I am sorry my being tired gets in the way.

It gets in the way every single day.

First as a thought
Then as a life
Once as a dream
Ending in a scheme

Once as a husband
Then as a father
For him,
Children were no bother

One is a daughter
And one a sonn
Once as father
His time was done

Once was a life
Lived in strife
Once was a boy
Who innocently loved his toy
And as this boy grew
His experience did too

He learned to live
Learned to love
The one he loved
As elequent as a dove
And as he grew
His love did too.
His love was returned
By the one he so yearned

And after a while
A white dress came to style
With two circles of gold
Their hearts were sold

As they raised their son
They awaited nine months to come
For a baby girl would soon run
Time passed with joy
Until the day momma screamed out
"OH BOY"
8:15 early mornin
The baby girl was born

There once was a daughter
There once was son
The once was a father
Who thought he had won

Two years passed
As life slowly collapsed
Well father got ill
And momma cried, paying the medical bills
Until her last 'I love you'

11 years late, still to this day
For mother, son and daughter,
Father will never fade away

Another year later
12 since he passed
The memories and thoughts
Of daddy haven't faded away

13 years since that fatefull day
Memories stay and stay
For many more to come,
Another year, on and on.
Closer to seeing daddy
In years to come,
daughter will be embraced again

There is a daughter
And there is a son
There's also a mother
Who will forever love my father

A dying rose
Yes that's me.

A fragile little thing,
Miscolored and broken.

Just a Tap
can cause oh so much damage.

But somehow
You never get the memo.

Always plucking
My fragile petals.

Always clipping
At my thing little stem.

But it'll be alright
I promise.

But before you pluck my dear last petal.
I warn you,

Don't.

My petal falls,
The pinky red color filling my eyes.

You didn't listen.
I rise.

No matter how small I seem to be.
You can never beat me.

Vines and thorns
Surround me.

They protect a newly found rose.
I, my dear friend,
I am the Black Rose.

You,
You are simply red.

My new petals shine and glow.
I was hiding behind my walls
Yet I realize I needn't be hiding.

I'm myself, black.
And nothing less.
I won't hide to fit in.
I will shine and be myself.

Hello, nice to meet someone I'll never meet again.
Oh HI, hello, nice to see you, so good to meet you.
Yet I'm more excited to say goodbye.

Adieu to you.

One:
March
A son, a brother.
Ended his story early.
Two:
July
A daughter, a mother.
Fought a battle she couldn't win.
Three.
October
A sister to #2, a daughter.
Causes unknown.

They say it comes in threes,
So lord please let us be.

I wish I believed.
That it was easy to love me.

Because it's easy to love you.
Hurt and all.
But it seems like so much more work to love me.

I'm sorry I'm not easier to love.