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Kyra Cain May 2018
I’m the one no one wants.
I’m the one people ask, ‘hey who’s your friend?’ Because they would never look at me that way
Through all of my life, no one has wanted me.
I get my hopes up only to be crushed by the reality that is right in  front of me, I will never be good enough.
So I try again and again, but the outcome is the same.
I will never look good enough, say the right things, and be good enough.
My look do not compare to the girls all around.
No guy has found me beautiful, just something they say to get into bed.
My beauty is that of a cows, and cows get tipped, not loved.
But even cows find love, while I will be forever alone.
Because the feelings are never reciprocated.
The looks are never given my way.
The compliments are always backhanded.
No one wants me. I’ve known that for 18 years.
I’m the one no one wants, because even I don’t want me.
Kyra Cain May 2018
Faces pass by, some stay ingrained while others fade away.
Some laugh and smile, while others hide the pain.
Some speak out, and give you a hand, others push you down deeper.
I was raised to be strong, both willed and strength.
Never make a mistake, or prove you are better then them.
As the faces pass, I see the past.
I see the struggle, the fight. I see the mental exhaustion, and the physical doubt.
But I also see the happy, the smiles, even some tears.
I walk more and see the present.
I see the stress, and the anxiety.
I see the fight to say the right thing with the fear of every movement.
I see the scars of the people who left.
But i also see the hope, the strength and confidence.
I see the ability to stand strong against any adversity.
I also come to the end of my stop, most of the faces are gone now, but all that is left is the future.
It’s blurry, and hard to see.
But I do see it.
I see pain, and struggle
I see heartbreak and many tears.
But there is also love, and laughter.
There is peace, and happiness. There are people dancing and living life.
The faces are gone now, I am left alone. And I see myself.
I see the scared little girl, the temperamental tween, the stressed young adult, the excited adult, and the blessed elder.
I see the happiness coincides with the pain, unable to have one without the other somewhere.
I see the faces of me, the faces of the life that is behind and ahead of me.
Some faces are fading way, only becoming distant memories, others are becoming more fixed.
For those faces make up me, the work in progress, but still a piece of art.
Kyra Cain Mar 2018
You’re 16, and now your 6 feet underground
The life that you knew has disappeared, and all that is left is the memories of when you were here.
People send thoughts and prayers, but then it is ignored in a couple of days like no one cares.
They say your safe in schools, that is the one place where you can go, learn, and return home with more knowledge then before, no one said anything about you taking your last breath on that classroom floor.
People don’t care until it affects them personally, 17 dead children well ‘hey it wasn’t me’ but add more laws on guns and suddenly there is an uproar, good to know gun restriction is higher up then the lives of a classroom of 24.
The families are scrambling, how can they go on, the voices of their children are no longer echoing throughout the house making them strong.
They would take back every argument, every disagreement, for just one more hug, or even one more second of your breathing.
But that was all taken away by the bullets that rang out from that gun, reasons become unknown for why they had to run.
There is talk, talk, talk, but there is never any action. Why can’t people understand the volume of this transaction.
17 children are dead, 17 lives that were never even lead.
People hope and pray that this never again happens, until the next one and then what is the reaction.
Payers, thoughts, and hope, but never again action, because the people don’t want to admit that we have a problem of this faction.
You were 16 years old when your body was found, hopefully one day we will have justice for when you hit the ground.
For the victims of the Florida school shooting

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