the lamb's lame leg, its death sentence
the rest of the herd headed up the hill, dog
driven; the shepherd, home in his hovel

they wait, the vultures; they
know no haste, though hunger pulls
them closer to the babe

abandoned by its mother, and whatever
god watches over such beasts, its breathing slows,
the carrion eaters tighten their circle

the babe kicks its three good legs
in defiance or desperation--neither the buzzards
nor I know, even though, I created her

to be devoured soon in this new grass
while the other sheep chomp the sweet swards
close to the earth, oblivious to her fate

the circle grows smaller; the creature
kicks no longer; her eyes yet blink, slower, until
the first talon tears into the left or the right

the choice matters not

for I ate all my peas,
minded my masters at school,
then learned to march manly,
and straight

to these trenches
that surely are maps of hell;
if there be such a place
beyond here

in this dead, grey pasture,
pocked by shells, and body parts
strewn about like pieces of a puzzle
that don't fit

Father said go, make England
proud, but I know you would not wish
this fate for me, or any of the children hiding
in these pits, waiting for the command

to become fodder for the Gatling gun,
the cannon; you would shed cataracts
of tears for all of us, if ghosts above
yet weep for the living

the ****** who will soon join you,
though none know when; surely you
will hear me cry your name, the way I have
seen them all do, with their last breath

I doubt each one's intention
This is a selfish world
The goodness last for seconds
No one is here with a clean conscience
Who knows whats hiding behind a smile  
Everyone out are there to end their own thirst
For their benefits , not afraid to show their worst
No stranger are your friends ,
they'll go away to find the next trend
leave you alone to stand
Don't not doubt
the things you don't know about
There's no shame to be sceptical
It is better than being gullible

A poet's supposed to only post poetry
     If I try to do anything different under a pseudonym
They'd know it's me
               They're not too dim
  To shine a light on similarity
             Between two varying laugh tracks despite all the hilarity
        Been getting down to brass tax with a microscope
       I could read the fine print even if both my eyes were closed
     So tie the rope tightly around your own necks
                          As I work far outside of my trajectory from how I make the bow flex
         If I was Archie mixed with Cupid
          I would
    Follow an arrows arc like an archery marksman whose targets are Betty and Veronica's beating hearts
    And when they get hit,
        They both fall pretty hard
      And meet me in my back yard where I get their backs archin'
         Point is, I've got precision aim
    When I'm shooting for emotions
            Make you never feel a thing
      Make you clear minded and focused
             Let you all in on my pain
   Have you buzzin' like a locust

The life that we live in
Is just a train we all ride
A crescent appears in the skies
When the moon falls behind
Darkness is all over the place
When the sun goes blind
This is not a story to make you sad
Or something to make you hide
It's to tell you how the pain ends
If you choose who stays beside
Life can be worth living after all
When you throw sadness aside
I can't tell you how happy I can be
Every time you cross my mind
So please just stay close to me
Don't let me disappear in the tide

Morning rises
when night is dead ,      
and darkness disappears
the night terrors end
The day starts ,
with its drama and real problems
and its hard to get through them .
Peace is long last dream
and you do not have time
to ponder over it .
The days like this pass by
ages you , and leaves you
with nothing but regrets

He presents what you see
with impeccable finesse.
He hides everything else behind the curtains.
Heavily veiled by his smiles...
Cleverly masked behind his script.

He stands elevated, taking his stage.
From his vantage he sees all.
He allows his facade to bask in the light...
Whilst keeping his back in the shadow.

He's renowned.
By the light that kills the dark.
He's addicted to the nightly ovations,
cascading cheers and gleaming reviews.

But every show has an end.
Come every dawn, he wakes to the reality
that tolls at his door.
He's owned and he knows it...
Too well,
by the stage he built
and the drama he wrote and casted.

She’s happier when she’s self-harmed.
At least, that’s what she thinks.

She’s more confident when scars are hiding on her body.
Until she looks in a mirror
And realizes what she has done to herself.

She hates herself when she looks in the mirror.
Until that feeling goes away
When someone says, something mean, without knowing her story
That’s when self-hatred comes out and captures her mind.

She’s happier when she’s self-harmed.
All her issues are better when expressed on her skin.
  Crashing back when the high of self-harming is gone.
And it ends up causing her more pain, then she had before.

She likes the world more when she has self-harmed.
It’s filled with so much good
Until something sets her off and feels the need to self-harm again
And she hates it all more than she should once again.

Her mind feels calm, when she self-harms.
Terrified of losing that feeling
She soon wants to self-harm again.

But she can stop any time she wants
She has herself trying to believe this.
Because self-harm takes the pain away.
That is, until all her friends leave.
Because her life revolves around the next time she self-harms again.

the chill of winter winds left with the Spring, I still feel the gusts in my bones,
I see our ghosts trapped in the trees

This forest is never blessed with the stars, The Darkness is the only thing complete, The Moon shivers, consumed by clouds

I strike black stones, but can't get them to bleed,
Your fading ghosts whisper, "Come back to me."

BG-4/9/17