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 Dec 2012 Hannah
Muggle Ginger
26 angels have arrived for orientation
Taken from the world without hesitation
Heaven is a little more crowded:
There’s a place already prepared
At least tonight those who’ve passed,
Will rest in God’s care

Buried under heartbreak, Newtown still stands
Worlds changed, for this kid and the next
“Kids, 2 +2 is…” BANG -
Children were unable to protect,
Themselves or their friends

Gunshots filled the air
Instead of love that should be there

Flags at half-staff, leave us half-hearted
Soo many, like too many,
Will spend their Christmas
With families torn apart
And no New Years resolution
Can make up for the inhuman execution

May we ever look to love unconditionally.
My greatest empathies go to those in Newtown, CT. Lives have been irreversibly altered, and in the words of President Obama, "our hearts are broken."
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Andy Cave
Words can't express the anger I feel
towards this sick, sick man.
How can you **** a child?
What drove you to end the lives
of twenty children?
This whole nation would love a chance
to have gotten their hands on you
before you yourself died.
The things someone would do to you
for taking away their child.
If there is a hell
I hope to god you suffer
forever
and ever
you sick
sick
man.
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Andy Cave
Hate
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Andy Cave
Anger has consumed me
a hate for all the violence
a hate for all the bloodshed
a hate for all the crime
a hate for those who hurt others.
Anger
has
consumed
my
heart.
 Dec 2012 Hannah
JM
Sons and Fathers
 Dec 2012 Hannah
JM
I realized the other night,

as I stood
screaming
at my son,

that I was breaking
our hearts.

I walked away
as soon as  I saw
the line
in the distance.

The line that
I will never cross.

I walked away
and felt my fathers fist
across my face.

I spared my
precious boy
the terror of
being beaten
by the man
he wants to grow
up and be just like.

I walked away
when I saw
the tears well up
in his innocent eyes
and the confusion
contorting his face,
when I heard some
frustrated father
misdirecting his own
anger and confusion
towards an undeserving
child and realized the
******* father was me.

I heard my father screaming at his woman about having a kid who would do "whatever the **** I tell him to if you hit him hard enough" and realizing that kid was me. I remember a part of me withered when I heard this.

He was right.
My father conditioned me
to take a beating.
He taught me how to
shut the **** up
and do what the **** I am told.
He taught me not to question his orders,
even when I knew they were wrong.
He taught me obedience
by beating me.
He taught me submission
by leaving me no other choice.

He taught me how to be broken.

I learned my lessons well.
I let people push me around because that was my place.
I let people get over on me because I didn't want to confront them.
I lost my girls to other guys because I was weak and scared.
I got passed up for promotions because I was hesitant and indecisive.

How do you forgive someone for conditioning you to be a failure?

How do I reconcile loving my father for the frail human that he is and hating him for the vile and abusive monster that he was?

When I saw the look on my sons face I wondered briefly if that was how I used to look when my father was berating me.

Right before fist hit face.

How the **** could he hit me with that look of fear and confusion and conflicting feelings on my face that must have registered somewhere in his drunken mind.

I can't help but think
it must have been devastating
for him,
somehow, someway.

He stopped apologizing for the beatings and
I stopped thinking
I didn't deserve them.

All of these thoughts and feelings passed
through my brain in a split second
and I turned away from my son.

My precious son.

My reason for existing.

My everything.

I turned away from his tear
stained face and sat down to cry
for a while myself.

I knew that I had caused some damage.
I thought back to all those times I sat crying in my room as a kid and wondered what would have made me feel better at the time, besides the obvious of not just having my *** kicked by a grown man.

42 years
of  gnawing pain
and frustration
and fear
and silence
and tears
and rage
and crushing loneliness
and shame

and fear and fear and fear

walked up the steps to
where a ******* 12 year old boy
sat alone.

42 years
of  breaking
the cycles of abuse and addiction
walked up the stairs and
spent the next hour
healing what I had damaged
in two minutes.


Later that night,
as I lay in bed questioning
every ******* decision I have ever made,
again,
I heard some sort of noise that startled me.

I leaped out of bed and took a quick route through the place to see what the noise was.
I never did find out what caused it but I called up to the boy quietly and asked if he heard it.
It appears he had been awake as well and had been rattling around in his own thoughts.

My boy had been thinking about death.

He was realizing the eventual imminence
of our own mortality and the weight of that thought was
crushing.
I was there for him, though.
I was able to put his mind at ease.
We talked of death, and life, and God, and philosophy
and we had a wonderful conversation
together sitting in his darkened room.

His small hand in mine, we healed each other.
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Nathan Millard
Give
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Nathan Millard
My grandmother always said
“The way into a person’s heart is through their stomach”
I keep replaying that lesson over in my mind
Tracing the flowers on the edge of this plate
I ask myself what tempting poison must have been fed to you
To make the three hours I spent on this lasagna not enough

I once thought of taking my life but the thought of all the people I needed to help kept me here
An act of complete selflessness
An act of complete selfishness
I cannot live my life for other people; it is not fair to them
Nor is it fair to me
If you keep drinking from a well
It will run dry
If you keep whittling a tree
It will be only a stump
I am not a bottomless wealth of help
I too have begun to run dry
But I refuse to choose the path of martyrdom
I will not teach a lesson learned by my absence
A person lost is missed most when left unresolved
I don’t want to be a case of what could have been said
…What should have been said

I give 100 percent of me and get back none
As an act of self-preservation I must brick over the mouth of this well
For I have grown weary of one way streets
I would give it all to you
And you can’t even spare a thing for me
I don’t ask for your pity or your hand outs
I may stand on the street and sing
But not to fill my cup with coins
But to sing
Today I must look at this street corner differently
For if I sang for change and received no coins
I would move to another corner
I know you will remember me
I know you ‘re changed by me
But I only wish I was ever presently important
For a friend who is seen as important in hindsight
Is a friend who is already gone
So I give you one last chance
I am here
I am now
Do not waste me
For I will go to another corner soon
And this time to sing for change
Because my throat has grown weary
I can no longer sing to you just simply to sing to you
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Morgan Percy
You've taken everything from me
the best years of my life
are now yours
but you just cast them aside like an ugly christmas sweater
you're awful to me
i wish it was anyone else but you
and  i can't even begin to fathom what i see in you
i hate you so much
so why does this hurt so much?
like the sweater you pulled a string
and everything comes apart
piece by piece
strand by strand
I've unraveled
© Morgan Percy 2010
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Nathan Millard
Home
 Dec 2012 Hannah
Nathan Millard
I tried to wrap my fingers around the world once
  But like trying to have a finger in every cup of cupcake pan:
I couldn’t
I ended up with handfuls of soils and clouds swirling through my fingertips

So I decided to get a different goal
I would traced every star with my fingertips
Lying on my back in a field I saw them all
Making dot to dot pictures in the constellations spilled before me
Each star I traced had two more coming after it and the numbers never ended

Did you know some of the stars we see aren’t even still lit?
They burned out yet still their light travels too us from light years away
A lake I heard about in Montana has crystal clear waters
Though you can see the water’s floor it is still incredibly deep
The shallow look of seeing every pebble is simply an illusion
I wish the sky were like that
The stars could look closer, feel warmer, despite their distance

Maybe I only wish that because the thought of space makes me uncomfortable
I like to think that this is up
And that is down
but the world’s not flat
It’s quite sadly round

My night is day in another place,
on this earth
What time is it on mars, on pluto, on planets we don’t know about?
How small are we really in the grand spectrum of it all?

Because I assure you if you dropped a grain of sand into a bag of rice you could find it
If you tried and tried and tried
And looked at every grain of rice
We are here, we can be found in it all
But we have hid ourselves in blankets of space
And wrapped ourselves in other stars to make us hard to find
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