They tell us to live our lives
but they give us so little time to do just that
placed under the constant constraint of rules and laws
how is that living?
living is to be free
but there is no time for that.
living is to be alive in all ways
but they give us no time for that.
when life stops my ticking clock,
will i be satisfied?
satisfied with every tick mark,
every minute on that clock,
because in those minute marks
are countless nights of fun, laughter, and heartbreak,
in those minutes,
I lived.
but will the minutes i spent doing what i was told to do,
or even made to do take over?
will they outweigh the times i was truly free?
will any of it matter?
if only i could stop my ticking clock to go back and count,
count and get an overall calculation.
but i keep living.
never stopping until my clock stops.
no time to go back.

my mind travels back and time and once again i feel the pain
every ounce comes back with great force
not stopping until i am emotionally paralyzed
unable to move i sit still
scared that any movement will surely **** me
i cant face this again
i cant let you take anything else away from me
you stay with me always
the pain of that is just enough for me to breathe
i cant forget what you did
what you said to me
what you stole from me.
nothing is sacred to you.
My mind travels back in time but not my body.
my body sits broken and scarred
wounds caused by your unforgiving hands
i will not let you take the last thing i have
my sanctity.

The inner pounding in my chest has stopped.
My heart is broken.
regret and self pity fill me with vile sensations.
I want only to cease the pain it continues to bring me in the darkest hour of night.
When I am alone with my thoughts.
A pain that was once joy throbbing inside of me.
Now a pain that kills me slowly with each pump of blood.
My heart a tool of my very own self destruction.
I must destroy it.
Yet I continue to live with it
A daily reminder that I must not end.
A daily reminder that you're slowly killing me.
Inside and out.

How can we be sure that our thoughts are our own?
That everything that has ever come to mind has not been thought of by someone elese somewhere on the planet.
That every idea that we have ever thought or dreamed has been installed in us,
some way maybe unknown to our knowledge.
Orginality is dead.
Who are we?
Let's let society decide

a life drowned in music
smothered in depression
and kept in the shadow of my past mistakes.
relating to every word some black man spits,
through the radio our hearts are connected.
I feel every beat in the bass as a stab to my heart.
talking about getting money, ******* women,
and life on the streets.
Maybe we aren't so different after all.
His streets my hallways,
his money my dream,
his women my regrets,
his words my swag.
I rock to the beat of struggle and pain,
a mixed boys struggle,
a life with no end.
Alone? not really.
But a feeling so natural it's comfortable,
a feeling I hate, yet its the only thing that lets me know I'm alive.
A beat so unique once it's heard you'll never forget it
A beat that gets stuck in your head and won't ever come out
This beat is me.

If only.
If only I could go back and save your life.
If only I could go back and tell you I loved you.
If only I could go back and take the phone out of your hands so you would see the road.
If only I could change the color of the stoplights.
If only I could have made the light green and not red.
If only I could go back and stop the truck from hitting you.
If only I could go back and stop time.
If only there was a way to bring you back.
If only.

BANG!
quick breath no sudden movements
BANG!
screams heard throughout the hall
BANG!
blood splatters the window
BANG!
innocent lives gone
BANG!
hide in the closet
BANG! BANG!
no more teacher
BANG!
fifteen kids dead in one round
BANG!
three more dead on sight
BANG!
you take your life
BANG!
childhoods stolen.