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  Mar 2015 Deenah
Syzygy
I know what to say
Just not how to say it.
Deenah Mar 2015
If I could, I would take out my heart,
And replace it with yours.

Because I'd rather feel your pain,
Then witness you feel it.
Your pain is my pain.
  Feb 2015 Deenah
n o i r
Baby, there's a
white chalk outline in the street tonight
for the boy down the road
who didn't have a chance at life.

There's a lady working down
at the truck stop on Third,
and she's racing home tonight
to confirm what she's heard.

That's her baby in a casket,
not the usual sort,
and his mother's screaming in the storm
begging God to take this hurt.

There's a girl across town
who lost the things she had,
and the only thing she knows now
is the fright that's in her head.

Her father's in the living room
where he loads his shotgun,
almost hoping that the
**** from prom will
show himself again.

There are children in the desert,
in the city, in the streets
and they are dying every day.
All we do is argue
over what is best to say.

The journalists and soldiers,
those who worked a mile high.
Honest folks are turned to martyrs
and their names are used in vain.
No one considers rationale,
only how to profit gain.

We're political, tyrannical, existentially obsessed;
we haven't got a thought for those
who haven't even dressed.

"They aren't here; they're there;
we haven't got the time."
But if there's anything I know,
it's that my time isn't even mine.

"Jimmy wouldn't take me out tonight."
"Martha never called me back!"
"I wish that Art had never talked to me."
"I hope you have a heart attack!"

People dying every day
and no one seems to give a ****.

We are vain and we are damaged
and we will never be the same.
It seems that all which matters
is just how well you play the "game."
#JeSuisCharlie
Deenah Feb 2015
Mum
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder"
Or so they seem to say.
I'm not sure I trust that judgement,
As its pain that grows each day.

Your presence is enough to heal,
To calm and to subdue,
And while we never realised,
We owed this peace to you.

And now your gone for just a few days,
It's all too much to think,
That this is what you've been doing each day,
Without a single blink.

For us to think of you in pain,
We'd wish to take away.
Thinking of your labour pains,
Taking this would never repay.

And all this stress, and all this worry
All of it combined,
Would be nothing compared to your sacrifice,
Because even taking your pain on ourselves now,
Would not come close to the way you gave us life.

*Mum.
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