Maybe, she's just tired
Maybe, she's just sad
Maybe, she's just too weak to handle the pressure
But,
She's tired
She's sad
She's too weak to handle the pressure
And when she closed her eyes
She see herself in water
An anchor on her ankle
Making her drown
To her tiredness
To her sadness
To her weakness
And maybe,
Maybe she's better to be drown anyway.

Evert night at 2 AM
Different poems are written
Different words are scribbled
Different papers are crumpled
But only one thought she had
Yet, word can't help her convey the feelings
"Empty" has much more than herself
"Sad" is not sadder than she thought
"Broken" is more whole than her
"Hurting" ain't just bleeding just like her
And when words can't take the role
It's the blade that play with her
Every cuts has meaning
Everything is her unreleased feeling

We say the same things, same things that we've said.
I wish our words meant more than words can mean.
So little can be said without the heart
Expanding, fighting, breaking, growing old.

Unlikely color of the fall,
Surviving drought and aphid bite,
Cold nights, strong wind, the harvest blade,
Protected by a wreath of thorns.

An old man bends beside you now,
Pulls close the collar of his coat,
Considering the steps and rail,
The fading light of liberty.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.

Don't fear the pain,

use it,

keep it there,

beside you,

and maybe,

just maybe,

it will give you the words to say in a poem,

or the notes to play in a song,

for sometimes

it is flying with what hurts,

that gives us the colors to paint with.
                                                                                        Jon York    2018