I'm afraid I'll end up living a small life,
in a small place,
and my small dreams
are just what remain.
That when I'm decaying somewhere
far underground and returning
to where I began
All I'll be is a small memory
in just another brain.
The words I've scribbled (or typed)
will all be long gone.
the people I made smile
will be all far away.
I'm afraid of when
my small spirit starts to fade.

They visited the spot where his soul left his body.
Shot in the neck
Go get Mama
His very last words.
The blood was still there
She was told to wait in the car
Too innocent for such passionate danger.
Mother pressed her hand to the
concrete
Feeling the permanent loss of her only son.

Hundreds packed into that dull
gray church basement
So many unaware of the secrets
That died with him,
that maybe brought them there.
Murmurs of who and how and why
That distant uncle, locked away
Could it be his fault?
A little girl too young to understand
death and violence
Leaves her stuffed friend
To keep him company
Amidst the piles of Hennessy and gold.

Hundreds in procession
Leading the living to that final goodbye.
The city has a way of bringing out the worst in people.
Stone-faced grandmother,
how heavy does her heart feel?
Mother wailing as mothers do
Her worries come to life in this death
Watching as they lowered him
and his treasure
deep into the earth
A part of herself
A part of us all
Buried there.

But when you think about it as often as I do, wouldn't it become normal for you, too?

No damsel in distress here.
Just a hollow shell.
A heart so cold that if you try to touch it you will die of hypothermia.
I am a parasite.
So leave before I spread from your lips to your heart.
My deep blood red lipstick on your lips is nothing but a poison.
My hand that glides across your face as I rub it is me luring in my prey.
I am not innocent,
I am not able to love,
I am not yours,
I am dead already.
**So don't **** with the girl with the lipstick on