You never think it is going to happen to you
Until you hear of a letter from the sheriff’s department,
And the quiet guy in your econ class no longer shows up to school.

You never think it would happen to them
Until you’re laughing over coffee
And someone mentions the events of last friday
And how the police were called in

You never think it would happen to her
Until she’s making jokes about it
But could have been gone forever
May the circumstances had changed

And you laugh along,

But the moment the talking stops,
The smiles fade,
You’ll come to the halting realization

You never think

Sadness is dandelion yellow.
It sounds like the gentle tap of rain on the roof of a used car,
It tastes like a lukewarm coffee, with not enough sugar.
It smells like a three star motel room on a Wednesday afternoon.
Sadness feels like the streams of sunlight leaving your face, as the sun vanishes into the night sky.

Paranoia is electric green.
It sounds like the small hum of a 1976 refrigerator.
It tastes like somebody left a hair in your sandwich.
It smells like aged copper, dangling around your neck.
Paranoia feels like pins and needles right after standing up.

The words spoken were short and few,

But the wounds they formed cut deeper then you knew.
The residue left started to fester and rot.
And the butterflies in my stomach transformed into knots.
They say it’s alright,
I say it’s okay.
I wonder for once what I did anyway.

To provoke such,
Words
to form into knives.
They penetrate my skin,
but I will still strive.
In the dark of the moment I’ll make art from my pain,
Even if my confidence may never be the same.
I’ll come back STRONGER.
I’ll come back BOLD.

Willing to tell the story that needs to be told.
Yes, the cuts were deep,
But skin grows back thick.
I’ll never forget the words that clung to me.
They stick.