accusation after accusation
about cheating and lying
is like the crossfire on a battlefield.
why is it that you and mom have to fight to communicate?
why is it that yelling to the point of a scratchy throat is your guys' goto to get a point across?
why does it always have to be a constant whirlwind of chaotic rounds of gunfire for you guys?

i don't know why you thought that abandoning us was the clearest thought in your clouded mind.
not just abandoning us for some other woman who was never worth the time,
but abandoning a wife who supported and loved you, for a woman who was less than a speck of dirt.
but also abandoning three kids who considered you as the other parent they no longer had, for a woman who couldn't see her own four kids because she would rather be including methamphetamines and other drugs in her life than her own offspring.

you abandoned us for a woman who made the fight for drugs, rather than the kids she gave life to.
there was a family you had left behind and kept waiting,
while you organized a mess of a life with someone else.

all i can say is how could you give up the life you built with us,
and damage it with her.
how could you make us flip our feelings for you?

i sat with my mother in front of the apartment you were staying at, at 10:45 after my shift at 10:00 at night.
waiting for you to take your dog because we aren't his caretakers.
yes, we loved him,
but that was your responsibility and we weren't going to take it anymore.

but as i go to knock on the window of your room because the door is too far away from your apartment number,
there are night owls of drug addicts peering through the window curtains.
but not answering the door.

i hate you so much when i should love you.
you were our parent when our father died.
but you left us the same way our father did.
the only difference is that you didn't die.

you left the same way he did because drugs stripped you both from us.
only that you didn't die.
not physically anyway.
just mentally, you're dead to us.

once a drug addict, always a drug addict huh.
i guess this taught us never to trust so easily.

Brick
        By
            Brick
A house is built
Hour
        By
            Hour
The house becomes a home
Day
        By
            Day
The home turns into memories
Year
        By
            Year
The memories turn into people
Century
        By
            Century
The people turn into stories
Story
        By
            Story
Stories turn into legends
Legend
        After
            Legend
History is changed
Piece
        By
            Piece
Lives are changed
Person
        By
            Person
Love is spread
One Love
        After
            Another
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.

It's kind of weird to think.
About how people change.
But it's not generally because of themselves.
Unless they mean it to be.

People around you.
Input pieces of their souls
Into everyone around you.
Every day.

Isn't it weird to think about?
Maybe you saw his fingers tapping,
Or her biting her lip,
Or them saying something that made you laugh.

And then a few weeks later,
You find yourself doing the same thing.

People input pieces of their souls
Into everything they do.
In an English essay, you can hear their voice,
In the way they write.
If you listen hard enough.

If you read the things I write.
You can tell little things about me.
Like the fact that I see the good in people,
And the fact that I'm young and in school.

Or the fact that the characters I write about
They exist everywhere in my mind.
My friends are often in my words,
Speaking through everything I say.

My words shape who I've become,
And the things I do become less fun,
Until you realize your soul is spreading too,
When you see someone reading a poem.

When you see someone covering their face with their hair,
Or reading the book you just read.
When you see someone who's singing classic rock,
Looking at you once again.

If you see someone copying your stride,
Or the way you hold your bags.
Or the way you mess with your fingers as you're nervous.
Just know it's not you who's inside.

We're all different people,
Sharing our souls,
Not knowing exactly where they're going,
Not at all.

Yet it's not hard to tell who someone is.
From the pieces of soul you find.

when did MY education
become more important than supporting those who died.
from those who took a bullet.
and lost their lives
to save others.

when did MY education
become more important than doing something about gun violence.
from anyone who died
for those
who lived.

when did MY education
become more important than the real issues
that cause this whirlwind of a country
to fall apart at its own feet.

when did MY education
start to become more important
than checking more carefully for those who hold barrels against someone's head
and pull the ******* trigger.

MY education is not about if i know how to solve ***** formula's
but knowing the difference between logic and knowledge
between right and wrong
between peace and war.

so
instead of understanding the complete differences between peace and war
this country uses war to claim it's for peace.
this country confuses two polar opposites to somehow be useful for the other.
this country confuses right and wrong with whatever kind of leader it has.

violence is sorely mistaken as a solution for peace.

there is no logic.
there is no knowledge.
there is only lack of education
to the violence we create
as a nation.